Pureblood
by DoradaWolf20
Summary: Pureblood follows the story of Sira Volkov, a young woman who struggles with her mortality after the death of her lover. Distraught, she makes decisions that she will have to live with for the rest of her life. Will she survive her new life with the Death Eaters or will she fall from the pressure of it all?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_I am dead, but yet I'm still breathing._  
_I am dead, but yet I'm still feeling._  
_I am dead, but yet I'm still here, I'm still alive._  
_How can I be alive?_

A brown wolf lay on the floor, her blue eyes dull with grief. She didn't move except for her slow, steady breathing. Just one look at the depressed animal and one could tell that it had suffered a great loss; a loss that had changed her life forever. The wolf lay without a sound, not disturbing the dead silence that filled the house these days. It used to be the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix but now it wasn't used, abandoned until a later date. This place used to be so welcoming to the wolf with blue eyes, it used to be the only place she wanted to be, but now, it was her prison. She could have changed it, she could have moved away from it, but she didn't. Her suffering, her grief, her inability to leave was all because of the loss of the man she loved, Sirius Black. She wouldn't believe that he was truly gone. He would never leave her behind.

It had been weeks since the death of her love, but it replayed in her mind every day, haunting her, trying to make her believe in reality. She never would. During the time though, she spent most of it were she was now, on the floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place but the other Order members grew concerned for her. She wouldn't eat, only enough to keep her alive. She wouldn't do anything but lay on the floor in a depressed state. They decided that they would take turns watching and caring for her, making sure that her condition wouldn't get any worse. Usually, the Order members took her to their houses so it would be easier for them to watch her. She hated it, moving from one house to another, just like she did when she was little.

She knew that they were only trying to help her, that they were only trying to make it easier for her to live again, but she didn't want their help. She just needed to be alone, to be able to think. "You can continue on with your Order," the Dark Lord's voice hissed in her mind with the memory of the Department of Mysteries, "or you can truly be a Death Eater, but either path you choose will end in your death. Choose wisely, Volkov…"

She just wanted this life to end and that's what the driving force behind her decision. She wanted to take the path that would led her to her death faster, she didn't care about living anymore, she stopped caring long ago. If she continued on with the Order, she felt that the Dark Lord would try to take revenge but the likelihood of her death was diminished because of the protection the Order had given her. If she continued with the Death Eaters, she felt that death was certain, inevitable. Although, how could she leave the only people that truly cared about her? The Order was her family now. Of course, she had alliances with some of the Death Eaters, like Lucius and Bellatrix.

Bellatrix, she snarled in her thoughts. How she hated her, for Bellatrix was the one who killed Sirius. An old fire flared within her from the time when she attacked Bellatrix. She wanted her blood in her hands. She wanted revenge for taking her love away. Her thoughts flashed back to the longing of her sinking her wolven jaws into Bellatrix's neck and ripping out her throat. Her hackles rose with the thought and she let a sinister snarl, low and dangerous. Anger burned in her blue eyes.

"Filthy half-blood, living in my Mistresses'' house even though Master is dead, acting like he will return to her if she waits," someone mumbled. Her eyes found the source, Kreacher, the house-elf for the noble and most ancient house of Black. "Who does she think she is? All she is is scum." She jumped up and snarled at him, her eyes blazing with rage, her body shaking with her fury. The house-elf gave her a smug look. "Master was useless and ungrateful. He didn't deserve to carry the name of Black."

Her body lunged forward and the house-elf shrieked. She tackled him and pinned him to the floor, her face twisted in a vicious snarl. Her fangs flashed white in the dull light as saliva dripped onto the house-elf. She wanted him dead for his words.

"SIRA!" someone screamed, the voice filled with a mixture of shock and rage. She shot the speaker a furious look. It was Anastasia Dalca, her friend from Hogwarts and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. "Get off of him, Sira! He hasn't done anything to you!" Sira's snarling continued as she stepped away from Kreacher. The old house-elf looked stunned as he shuffled out of the room quickly as if he was afraid of her. Let him be afraid, she growled. She looked at Anastasia as she tried to calm herself again. Anger left her, allowing herself to be numb again.

Eventually, she stopped snarling and Anastasia let out a sigh. "Sira, what's wrong with you?" she asked, her voice almost accusing. Sira rolled her blue eyes and went back to the spot where she was laying, sinking to the floor quickly and continuing to gaze blankly at Anastasia. "Will you ever talk about what happened? Will you ever talk about your feelings?" no, Sira replied strongly in her thoughts. Many people tried to comfort her, tried to get her to discuss her feelings, and every attempt she denied. Anastasia sighed again.

"What's happened to you?" she asked with concern. "You're a completely different person ever since the day at the Department of Mysteries. I know that you were devastated by Sirius' death but everyone was, everyone felt some type of grief, and everyone has recovered from it except for you. You used to be happy, you used to be perfectly normal, and I'm not talking about when you joined the Order. I'm talking about before you ever joined, when we were back at Hogwarts. What's happened to that Sira? The happy one? The caring one? Where has she gone?" Sira gave Anastasia an angry glare, Anastasia looked furious. "Sira, please talk to me."

With that, Sira stood and shifted from wolf to human for the first time in weeks. Her dark-brown hair fell in dull, ragged curls that needed to be cared for. Her beautiful face showed her stress and was starting to deteriorate a bit, hollowing her cheeks and giving her sweet face a harsher look. There were dark circles around her eyes from her lack of sleep and her sorrow. She was thin, her ribs easy to feel beneath her black, fitted t-shirt. It was easy to tell that she wasn't caring for herself just by looking at her.

"What, Anastasia? What do you want?" Sira snapped her voice hoarse from going a while without speaking to anyone. Her blue eyes were hazy with her grief.

"I want you to talk to me!" she stressed back.

"Well, what am I doing now?" Sira asked angrily.

"Not that, Sira," Anastasia said with a little snarl. "Tell me what's happened to you."

"Life! Life is what has happened to me!" Sira barked at her. "Leave me alone."

"Sira, you need to talk about what you are feeling. You need help," Anastasia stated fierily with agitated in her brown eyes.

"Leave. Me. Alone," she barked again with fury burning in her eyes.

"No, Sira, you need to talk about this!" Anastasia shouted. Sira started to shake with blind rage. Right now, she hated her; she hated everyone, especially the ones who tried to 'help' her. Something with her flared, she hadn't felt the feeling for a long time. It was dark. It was evil.

"I don't need to talk about anything, Anastasia," Sira growled cruelly. "I don't need to talk about my feelings, I don't need help, and I definitely don't need any of this." She gave Anastasia one last glare and stormed out of the room, up the staircase, and into Sirius' room, slamming the door behind her. She went over to the bed and jumped into it, trying to calm herself down with the flood of memories that this room had given her. It didn't though; it only made her fury worse.

She pulled the covers up around her and lay silently in the bed. Sirius' scent still lingered on the sheets, giving her a little comfort and a lot of grief that mixed with her rage towards the world. It was a cruel and evil place now without him. She knew it would be, she always knew. Her eyes looked over at his dresser where her gift to him still sat; untouched since the day he found it. The pure-whit rose was still prefect and looked freshly-cut as droplets of blood welled up on its petals. Footsteps came from the hallway.

"Sira, can I come in?" Anastasia's calm voice asked.

"No," she said firmly, still filled with anger as she glared at the door.

"Sira, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you into trying to discuss your feelings when you weren't ready. I know you love Sirius, Sira, and I'm sorry that you lost him. I can't imagine what you are going through right now and I want you to know that I'm here for you and so is the Order. We all want you to be okay, we don't want you to suffer," Anastasia explained kindly from the other side of the door. "I just wanted you to know that, Sira, and there is an Order meeting tomorrow night at the Burrow, if you want to go. I was asked to tell you that and I hope that you will come. Goodbye, Sira. I'll leave you alone now." The footsteps faded from the hallway and the staircase. The front door opened and closed and then the silence returned to the house. Sira finally realized that her body was trembling with rage.

No one knew her; no one would ever know her. Sirius did but he was -. No, he's not gone. He can't be gone, she told herself as a sigh broke out of her chest. What would she do now?

She didn't know, she really didn't know.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sira woke the next morning to another feeling she hadn't experienced in a while. Hunger. She lay in Sirius' bed, waiting for the feeling to pass because the thought of food was repulsive to her. She didn't understand why, it just was. Her stomach growled, breaking the silence of the bedroom. The dull light from the pale morning outside filled the room as she tried to combat the hunger, eventually giving into it.

She climbed lazily out of the bed and headed downstairs, hearing voices as she made her way to the kitchen. All she knew that it wasn't Kreacher's ever-constant mumbling. Slowly, she walked into the kitchen to find Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks there and making breakfast, by the smell of it, eggs, toast, and bacon. Just the smell of it made Sira's stomach give another loud growl. "Hello, Remus. Hello, Tonks," she said smoothly. The both looked up at her quickly, looking surprised that Sira was actually up and around and not sulking in a corner.

"Hello, Sira," Tonks replied kindly. "How are you?" Remus gave her a quick look as if to say that it was a little early to ask Sira those kinds of questions.

"I've been better," Sira stated as she sighed a little. She couldn't stop herself from sniffing the air again, everything smelled so good.

"Are you hungry?" Lupin asked as he buttered a piece of toast.

"Surprisingly, yes," Sira answered lightly as her stomach let out another growl. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if to silence the sound as she sat down at the kitchen table. "Everything smells delicious. Thank you for cooking."

"It's no problem, Sira," Tonks said as she set a plateful of food in front of Sira, whose mouth began to salivate a little. "We're just glad to see you taking an interest in food and also to see you in human form." Sira ripped into a piece of toast as Tonks spoke. Tonks laughed a little at the sight. It was like watching a ravenous wolf tear into a fresh kill and it didn't help that Sira snarled a bit as she wolfed down the toast. Lupin just shook his head and chuckled.

"Sira, the food isn't going to run away from you," he joked.

"Sorry," Sira said after gulping down the last bite of the toast. Both Lupin and Tonks sat down to join her at the table, each with a plate of food. She slowed her eating even though she was still ravenous just to be polite. They ate in silence with the only sound being the forks clanking on the plates. Sira ate much more than either one of them but they didn't care how much she ate as long as she did.

"Are you going to the meeting tonight, Sira?" Remus asked politely as she finished her third plateful of food. She was finally full and it took a dent out of her numbness and grief.

"I don't know should I?" she asked. "Is there anything important?"

"I'm not sure but you've missed the last few meetings and they all had some importance," Tonks answered.

"What did I miss?" Sira asked flatly.

"Well, all of the Death Eaters that were captured in the Department of Mysteries are now in Azkaban. The Dementors no longer guard the prison for they are now under the control of Voldemort. The Ministry was going off on a 'how come we didn't listen to Dumbledore and Harry, for they were telling the truth about Voldemort' campaign and questioned having Cornelius Fudge as the Minister of Magic. Fudge has been replaced with Rufus Scrimgeour," Lupin explained quickly.

"Okay, so what about Lucius Malfoy?" Sira asked curiously.

"What about him?" Tonks asked back seeming a little confused and shocked.

"Well, the last time he was faced with Azkaban," Sira said confidently, "he was able to weasel his way out of it by saying he was under an Imperius Curse. That day in the Department of Mysteries," she paused, caught her breath and continued on painfully, "he tried to escape with me. He tried to leave so he wouldn't be punished and he tried to take me with him but I faced the Dark Lord alone and he was obviously captured." She ran her hand through her hair as her old pain returned in throbs. It was her first time talking about any of this since she spoke with Remus the day after it happened. "So is he now in Azkaban?"

"Yes, he is," Lupin answered with concern, "with a life sentence." She tried to swallow the pain she felt with his words. Lucius was the only man still alive that 'loved' her and now he was gone from her too. Remus gave her a curious look and so did Tonks.

"What?" Sira asked with a little sharpness in her tone.

"It's just that this is the first time you've talked about the Department of Mysteries since it happened," Tonks said, trying hard to remove the present curiosity.

"Sira, do you remember the conversation we had after it happened?" Lupin asked. "We were talking about what had happened and you said something about Voldemort and then grew suddenly worried. What was that about?"

"Yes, Remus, I remember," she sighed as a flood of emotions hit her. It was too much, she couldn't take it. She inhaled deeply and closed her blue eyes, trying to cut through the emotions to see the pure memory. "I was alone in that circular room with the Dark Lord, stricken with grief and feeling numb. He asked me to look into his eyes and I didn't, I was paralyzed on my knees, staring blankly at the floor. He clenched his hand around my throat and forced me to look into his eyes. I didn't realize it at first but I had forgotten my Occulmency during that time because of my stress. He knew my secrets; I was exposed as a traitor.

"I waited for my death, it was only certain for my crime against him. The thought only seemed to convince him to prolong my suffering and then he insulted Sirius. I was furious and snapped back at him, causing him to use the Cruciatus Curse on me as punishment for speaking to a Lord in that manner," she growled. She paused again and opened her eyes to look at Lupin and Tonks. Their faces held a mixture of dread, concern, and fear. Her eyes closed again. "Then, as I was on the floor, wanting the comfort of death and panting with pain, he gave me a choice. He said to me, 'you can continue on with your Order or you can truly be a Death Eater, but either path you choose will end in your death. Choose wisely, Volkov. I'll be waiting for your answer' and then he left, leaving me alone on the floor. I was still panting heavily and waiting for death to wash over me, to take me away. Then my vision blurred.

"A voice said my name, filling my ears with the sound and the next thing I knew, he was there. Sirius was there as a silvery figure, talking to me, looking at me sweetly. He looked younger as if he had never suffered in his life. He said to me, 'Sira, oh my sweet Sira, I wish to request you to do something. I want you remember me, but not stop you from living your life. You have to continue on, Sira, even though I will not be with you in a physical form. Life has to go on, it just has to.'

"'Sirius' I panted softly with pain.

"'It will be difficult, Sira, but all I want is for you to be happy,' he continued. 'You have to let me go.'

"'No… never,' I whispered back.

"'Sira, you have to,' he told me and then he kissed me. When he pulled away, my heart plummeted. 'Goodbye, Sira. Don't worry; you'll see me again someday. I love you.' Then, his form started to dissolve.

"'I love you, too, Sirius,' I said and then thought, but I'll never say goodbye. Then, he was gone, leaving me alone with his voice still ringing in my head. Let go, is what he said and I fought the exhaustion that was about to take me away. After a while of fighting, I gave up and slipped away with one word exhaled on my breath. It was his name and I was gone." Her eyes opened as her tears streaked down her face. The torrent of emotions engulfed her, leaving her miserable. It was the first time she had shed tears over Sirius since the day after his passing. She looked sadly at Remus and Tonks. They looked shocked, speechless, as if they didn't know how to respond. Their eyes showed a mixture of deep sorrow, remorse, fear, and pity. The feeling of being completely alone in the world filled her again, causing a loud sob to break out of her chest. She put her face in her hands. Let go, Sirius' voice echoed in her mind.

"Sira," Lupin said softly. She removed her hands from her face and looked at him hopefully. "Did Sirius really come to you, after you knew he was gone?" She nodded her head slowly as Lupin gave her a questioning look. Tonks glanced at Remus and then at Sira, she obviously didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, Sira," she finally said. "We didn't know."

"I know you didn't. It's not your fault," Sira stated blankly. She rose from her chair and started to head out of the kitchen.

"Sira," Remus sighed and she turned to look at him, "we knew you loved him very much but we never know how devastating losing him was to you. You didn't just lose him; you lost everything that day in the Department of Mysteries." She gave him another small nod as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks. She walked quickly out of the room and up the stairs to Sirius' room. Once there, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it. A memory flooded her mind.

"Sira, please stop crying," Sirius said as he wiped the tears from her eyes. She was held in his arms, safe from the evils in the world. He cupped her face in his hands as longing welled up within her. His lips met hers. It was their first kiss, strong, passionate, yet sweet. It was everything she had ever wanted and everything she had ever needed. His lips soon parted from hers.

"I'm sorry, Sira," he whispered remorsefully as he moved away from her. "I shouldn't have done that. I, I got carried away."

"Sirius," she said passionately as she gazed into his grey eyes, "I feel like I have known you my whole life and, in these dark times, we may not have each other forever."

"I know, Sira," he whispered as he pulled her close and held her. "I know."

Her body sank to the floor. They had known it all along; they had always known that they would lose each other. They knew that their love couldn't last forever and yet they continued to love each other. Remus was right, she had lost everything. There was nothing left for her here, nothing but sorrow, agony, and pain. She would have to let go of this place someday and the sooner the better.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

All of Sira's possessions lay in a heap on Sirius' bed. There wasn't much, just a few sets of clothing, her black traveling cloak, her Death Eater robes, her wand, a letter from Sirius, and the necklace that he had given her. The bedroom door opened and Sira entered the room with a small, black shoulder bag in her hands. Her hair was damp from the thorough washing she just finished doing, successfully removing all the knots and restoring it to it's usually luster. The lightest scent of lilac and sweet pea floated around her.

She went over to the bed and started to sort through her clothes, folding them and putting them in a neat pile. She finally reached for her necklace, carefully shifting it in her hands as she gazed at it. Grief filled her eyes. Her thoughts took her to the day that Sirius had given her the necklace. She was about to leave the house, to go to the Death Eaters for the first time, without saying goodbye to him and he had stopped her. He told her to remember him with it. She took his words to heart for she rarely took the necklace off.

After shifting it in her hands one last time, she put it one, adjusting it carefully into the perfect position. She let out a sigh and opened up the shoulder bag. She started filling it with her clothes. Her packing was done in an instant and she pulled on her traveling cloak after she concealed her wand on her hip. A sense of dread shot through her body and she questioned her decision. No, I've made my choice, she told herself. I have to stick with it.

She pulled the bag on her shoulder as she observed the room. There were so many memories here, it made it difficult for her fulfill her choice. She turned away from the bed and headed for the door, her footsteps filling the room. She opened the door and gave the bedroom one last, sad look, as if she was saying goodbye to it. The door closed behind her with a dull thud as her footsteps traveled down the staircase and out the front door. The house fell silent once more after the door shut loudly. Back in Sirius' bedroom, the white rose sat on his dresser with its dark beauty. It was still bleeding.

"Sira's gone," Anastasia panted with horror in her dark eyes as she raced into the living room of the Burrow. Lupin, Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were there and gave her an astonished look.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked her voice disbelieving.

"She's gone. Sira's gone. I went to go check on her and she wasn't there. It looked like she packed up her things and left," Anastasia said. She was expecting the worst.

"Did she leave anything?" Tonks asked flatly, she was worn out from her own suffering.

"I found a letter addressed to the Order and that's it. The house looked like she was never there," Anastasia stated, still panting a little as she fished the letter from her pocket. She placed it on the coffee table in front of all of them; they just stared at it for a while. Soon, Remus picked it up, opened it, and started to read aloud.

Dear Order of the Phoenix,

As you know, I have been struggling with grief and depression lately, only to realize that I was fighting a losing battle. I could never be happy again or ever truly live again. I had lost everything that day in the Department of Mysteries just like Remus said to me once. I had lost Sirius, I had lost my secrets, and I had lost my life except, somehow, I'm still here. I should be dead but instead I am faced with a choice, a choice given to be by the Dark Lord himself.

I can either continue on with the Order or I can continue with the Death Eaters, but either will lead to my death. I'm not afraid of death; I have nothing to live for anymore. Yet, I still fight it. I was so close to death that day in the Department of Mysteries and I just couldn't let go because something held me back.

Anyway, I have decided, after much time and consideration, that I will continue with the Death Eaters. There is nothing left for me with the Order, all it does now is hold me back, keeping me from ever returning to a semi-normal state. I'm sorry and I hope you will understand. It is just something I have to do for myself. It will be a step forward into allowing me to let go. I'm sorry again and I wish the Order the best of luck in the days ahead.

Sincerely,  
Sira Volkov

"Oh no. Oh no," Anastasia panted, not believing the words she just heard.

"Anastasia, please calm down," Mrs. Weasley said quickly, her eyes held the same fear that Anastasia's did.

"Why would she do something like this?" Anastasia asked with her voice quivering a little. "She knows that she belongs with us and her place is with us, not with the Death Eaters."

"We know that her place is with us, Anastasia," Lupin corrected her calmly, "but she doesn't feel that way. Like she said in her letter, she had lost everything and there was nothing left for her."

"Is there anything we can do?" Anastasia asked quietly as she started to pace the room. "I mean, if she just left, we could stop her, right? We could prevent her from going to You-Know-Who."

"I'm afraid not," Tonks said and Remus nodded his head in agreement.

"It's too late now, Anastasia," Lupin stated sadly. "There is nothing we can do now other than inform Dumbledore of the problem. I'm sorry, but she' probably with Voldemort as we speak." He didn't truly know it but he was right about where Sira was. She was with the Dark Lord.

The night hung heavy in the air of the forest, covering everything in its darkness. Nothing stirred in the warm blackness, no wind to rustle the washed-out leaves, no animal to snap a twig underfoot. The night was silent, dead silent. A hooded figure moved with a sound through the trees. The figure paused, observing its surrounding, and dropped its hood. It was Sira with her curls of dark-brown hair catching the moonlight and shimmering. Her face looked pale but beautiful in the dull light, it was flawless. The blue of her eyes pierced through the darkness, shinning in the night. She continued her graceful walk through the woods.

The darkness welcomed her and she finally felt at peace among the trees for the first time in a long time. Soon, she reached a clearing where magical, blue fires glinted in the night; they were the same color as her eyes. The temperature dropped suddenly as a feeling of dread went through her body. "Well, well, well," a cold, shrill voice hissed in the darkness, filling the night with its sound, "look who it is. Volkov, the traitor herself." Her body unexpectedly went icy. He was standing behind her, his red eyes gleaming in the nigh, and speaking directly into her ear. She didn't realize that she had stopped breathing. "I thought you would never return, Volkov, but, yet again, I believed wrong."

"My Lord," she said slowly and clearly, "I have made my decision. The Order has nothing for me now; I wish to continue to serve you, to whole-heartedly serve you."

"Why, Volkov, should I allow you to return?" he snarled into her ear.

"I am loyal, my Lord, and darkness lives within me, like a caged animal waiting to be released. I am dangerous and I am observant," she stated proudly as her blue eyes grew serious. "You told me once that once you are a Death Eater, you are forever one. I was meant to be a Death Eater, it is destiny. I cannot fight destiny and I cannot fight my darkness anymore." She inhaled deeply, realizing one more thing. "It is as if I was meant to be broken before I could ever become whole."

"My Lord, she is a liar. She is a traitor," a female voice said in the darkness. Sira recognized the voice, causing the fury to flare within her. Bellatrix.

"Bella, you know that I have given Volkov a choice and she wishes to join us," the Dark Lord called as Bellatrix appeared out of the night. Rage filled Sira; she wanted to lunge at her throat again. The Dark Lord smiled cruelly. "You also know that Volkov loved you dear cousin, didn't you, Volkov?"

Sira was shaking with her blind fury and her rage as her eyes fixed on Bellatrix, they burned with her emotion. The creature within her stirred violently, egging her to attack. "Aw, that's right. I almost forgot," Bellatrix growled maliciously with a sinister smile. "You loved Sirius, my dear, piece-of-filth cousin. He was worthless to the family, barely deserving of the name of Black. He sickened me; I had to take of him." Anger flared in Sira's eyes, turning them harsh and wicked. Let go, the familiar voice rang in her head and she obeyed.

Her body shifted from human to wolf in a second as she lunged at Bellatrix, her jaws open in a vicious, wild snarl, but Bellatrix was ready for the attack and dodged it easily. Sira fell to the ground and quickly returned to her feet. The white of her fangs flashed in the dull light of the moon. Sira stood there, her eyes bursting with blind wrath, shaking and snarling cruelly, as she watched Bellatrix draw her wand and started to circle her, ready to duel. She snapped her jaws as she followed Bellatrix in her own circle, a dance of death. Voldemort watched them in the dance with a wicked smile on his face.

Sira was about to lunge at Bellatrix again when a man strode into the clearing, he had a sense of power in his walk. She had never seen this man before. The scent that came off of him smelled of dirt, blood, and sweat. His hair was long, grey and matted, very wolf-like. She noticed that Bellatrix had become distracted by the arrival of the man, so she shifted back into human form. She drew her wand from her hip and aimed it at Bellatrix's heart. "Crucio!" she barked quickly, her rage shaking her voice.

Bellatrix's body crumpled to the ground and convulsed with pain, twitching uncontrollably as a half-smile lit Sira's face. She wanted her to suffer; she wanted her to feel every ounce of pain that Bellatrix had caused her. Bellatrix let out a noise that was a wicked snarl, a sinister laugh, and a shrill scream. Sira trotted over to Bellatrix as she lay on the ground, her dark eyes furious and yet there was a smile on her face. The pain was obviously stopping. Sira's blue eyes still burned. "Get up!" Sira barked aggressively. Bellatrix stayed on the ground, starring viciously at her. "I said get up!"

"I don't take orders from a traitor, especially when the traitor is a half-blood," snarled Bellatrix cruelly as her dark eyes burned with infuriation.

"Cruc-."

"That's enough, Volkov," the Dark Lord hissed as he approached them, his evil smile still present on his face. Sira took a step back and bowed. "I want to know something about your past. What were your parents' names?" She gave him a look of puzzlement. Didn't he already know? He nodded as she looked into his crimson eyes.

"Dmitri and Azura Volkov," she stated proudly.

"What were their blood statuses?" he asked in a snarl.

"Pureblood and muggle-born, respectively." He nodded his head slowly as his eyes seemed to unfocus a bit, as if lost in thought. The smile was no longer on the Dark Lord's face as he started to pace. Sira's eyes followed his trek. Suddenly, he stopped, the sinister smile reappearing on his face as his red eyes fixed once again on her.

"Your parents disappeared on Christmas Eve when you were seven. Is this correct, Volkov?" the Dark Lord asked flatly.

"Yes, my Lord," Sira stated softly as her eyes glanced over at the stranger and Bellatrix.

"Do you know what happened to them?" She shook her head quickly, causing him to let out a little, cruel chuckle. "They were exterminated, Volkov." She remained unchanged for she didn't believe that they could still be alive. She had lost hope of them returning long ago. "Killed by a few Death Eaters on my orders." A spark of rage flashed in her blue eyes as she suppressed the strong urge to snarl.

"My Lord, who were the Death Eaters?" she snarled heatedly.

"Does it really matter? They were no threat to us, even though they both worked for the Ministry. No, we would not have murdered them if we hadn't received a large sum of gold for it," he snarled as he circled her, watching her anger flare within her. He was trying to set a fire, hoping the spark would catch.

"Who hired you to kill them?" she growled loudly her voice filling the clearing and empowered by her emotions. He smiled as he began to see the flames.

"Your dear uncle, Faulkner Volkov."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_The tidal wave of hatred and fury devoured Sira. Her eyes burned with her emotion, her body shook with rage. That traitor, that filthy, lying, heartless traitor!_ She snarled in her mind. _How could he do that? I know he hated my father for marrying my mother and he hated her and me because we aren't purebloods._ "That scum!" she barked. Lord Voldemort's fire was catching, flaring, living… thriving. He towered beside her, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dull light, his evil face twisted in a cruel smile.

"Fenrir, come her and give me what I asked you to bring," the Dark Lord hissed icily at the stranger. The man walked towards them and Sira realized that he held a bundle in his hands. Bellatrix was standing back in the shadows. The man, who Sira finally knew was Fenrir Greyback, bowed as he approached and held out the package to the Dark Lord. The bundle was buckled shut. Voldemort carefully opened the bundle as Sira watched in awe.

Within the bundle, several knifes shone silver in the moonlight. They were beautiful, finely carved, hand-crafted, and complete with engraving. There were also sheaths for the blades made of fine, dark leather. The Dark Lord reached for the largest knife and examined it in the light. "This is a gift for you, Volkov," he hissed as he set the knife back down in the bundle. "I trust that you will care for them and that you will use them with respect. They were made for you, each blade's handle has a wolf's paw carved into it. I know that you will use them well." A smile flashed on her face for an instant, it was cruel and sinister.

"How many knifes are there, my Lord?" she asked in a blood-thirsty snarl.

"Seven." Seven, the age she was when her parents left her on the doorstep of her uncle's house on Christmas Eve to never see them again. She reached for a blade. The metal was cold on her fingers as they wrapped around the hilt. A feeling of satisfaction filled her chest. "Take them, Volkov. They're yours," the Dark Lord hissed to her.

She carefully paced the blade back into the bundle and started to strap the sheaths onto her body. One on each forearm, one on her right hip, one on each thigh, and one in each of her black, leather boots. The longest knife went on her hip, the next longest ones on her thighs, the smallest ones on her forearms, leaving the last pair for her boots. She never realized how vulnerable she had felt until she was armed; it gave her comfort that nothing else could.

"Thank you, my Lord. Thank you," she said smoothly as she bowed low to him. Now, to get revenge for the deaths of my parents. The Dark Lord beamed at her sinisterly, willing her to fulfill her longing.

"You're welcome, Volkov. You are dismissed." He turned away from her and head over to Bellatrix in the shadows. She bowed again and raced back into the silence of the eerie forest. Rage flared in her heart. She needed revenge; she needed to make her uncle pay… she needed retribution. With a soft pop, she disappeared, leaving the forest to its unbroken calm.

I'll kill that heartless man. I don't care that he's family. He thought of me as scum, as unfit, as unworthy, he treated me as such, and he ruined my life. I hate him for that, she thought after she appeared in a dense wood near the house she always hated during the early years of her life, her uncle's house. It was the first time she had even seen the house since she was kicked out after attacking her uncle. The memory made a smile form on her face, a forbidding, manic smile.

The house looked dull, bleak almost, in the soft moonlight. The exterior was either grey or black with no real color what so ever and was perfectly spotless. Not one thing was out of place. She was so close now as she walked towards the doorstep, drawing her wand from her hip. She leaped quietly onto the doorstep. From what she could tell, no lights were on, which meant no one was awake, but she knew that she could be wrong on this assumption. Her heart raced with excitement and wrath.

She tapped the door once with her wand, causing the lock to click open, and opened the door. The entryway was dark but she could her voice coming from the dining room. She silently closed the door and crept into the living room, her wand at ready and her eyes watching like a predator. She was a killer and she knew it.

The living room connected to the dining room which connected to the kitchen. The house looked about the same as she remembered it. A soft light came from the dining room as the voices grew louder. It was her aunt and her uncle. She stormed through the doorway and her blue eyes found her uncle as she aimed for his heart. Her aunt let out a scream of terror. "Shut up!" Sira barked furiously and the room fell silent.

"Sira, is that you?" Faulkner asked. He looked old, older than he actually was but his eyes still held the fire. Wrinkles started to crease his face and his black hair was graying near his temples. She scowled at him. "Why are you here?"

"To do something that should have been done a long time ago," she replied slowly as her eyes turned cold and serious.

"W-w-what?" her aunt shrieked.

"Shut up! This is between Faulkner and me," Sira barked. "I know what you did all those years ago. I know what happened, Faulkner. I know." Her eyes starred at him, never leaving his face. "You killed my parents."  
"Who told you?" he asked his voice raspy as he stood from sitting and went to her. He wasn't much taller than she was.

"The Dark Lord himself," she snarled.

"Wait," he growled angrily, "you, a half-blood, spoke to the Dark Lord? You're just a piece of filth." She placed the tip of her wand under his jaw forcefully as he scowled at her.

"I. Am. Not. Filth," she hissed cruelly. "And, for your information, I am loyal to the Dark Lord, loyal enough to be allowed into his inner circle." He let out a laugh of disbelief.

"You're a Death Eater?" he asked as he continued to laugh. "How can you be a Death Eater?"

"Quiet, you fool!" she snapped as he jabbed her wand up into his jaw harder. "Is it true that you hired the Death Eaters to kill my parents?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever tell anyone else about it?"

"No."

"Not even your wife?"

"No."

"Well, Faulkner," Sira hissed as her blue eyes burned with her wanting, "it looks like this is the end." His eyes filled with horror and her aunt screamed bloody-murder. "Avada -."

"Expelliarmus!" someone barked and her wand flew out of her hand. "Freeze! Aurors!" Sira turned slowly to the voice, it was male and she recognized it. Standing in the living room of the house were Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and Anastasia Dalca, all having their wands steadied on her heart.

"Sira… no…" Anastasia whispered as she shook her head a little. Sira stood tall, raising her chin in the air a bit as her eyes, cold and serious, looked at the trio. Her stance was arrogant and sinister. "Why?"

"Why, Anastasia? You want to know why?" she snarled furiously. "I had nothing left, nothing at all. I was as good as dead with you. I couldn't feel, I was hollow and numb and, now, at least I can."

"I believe she wants to know why you tried to kill this man," Tonks stated flatly, her eyes showing a mixture of fear and guilt.

"He hired the Death Eaters to kill my parents when I was seven. He ruined my life," she hissed, "and he deserves the ultimate punishment."

"Sira, you don't have to do this. We can get you out," Anastasia said her voice begging. "You don't have to be a Death Eater." There was a long silence as Sira's eyes locked with Anastasia's. Faulkner slowly moved away from her and went to his wife, who was cowering in a corner.

"It's too late for me now," Sira said flatly. "I'm in too deep and there is no way out. Besides, it's not all that bad." She slowly drew the knife from her left forearm without them noticing. "It's too late and you're too late to save anyone."

"What?" Tonks asked in shock as Sira threw her blade at her uncle. It was easy, more like a flick of the wrist. The knife met its mark perfectly and sank deep into his body where his heart was. He howled in pain as his wife started to shriek again. Anastasia raced over to them as her uncle sank to the floor.

"Accio Wand!" Sira barked and her wand flew back into her hand.

"Anastasia, take them to St. Mungo's!" Kingsley bellowed as he focused on Sira. "We'll take care of Sira." With that, her uncle, her aunt, and Anastasia disappeared. Tonks and Kingsley readied themselves to duel, Sira wasn't going without a bit of a fight, but they weren't ready to duel a person who used to be their friend. "Sira Volkov, stand down," he ordered, "or we will use force."

"Never!" she hissed as she sent a beam of light soaring towards Tonks. She was outnumbered easily but she would not be taken willingly. She dodged, ducked, and avoided their spells. The fight was fierce until one of Tonks' spells sent Sira flying backwards. Her body hit the ground, hard, knocking the wind out of her. Tonks and Kingsley raced over to her and lifted her off of the floor and shackled her hands together.

"You are under arrest, Sira Volkov, for the attempted murder of Faulkner Volkov. You will be tried in the Wizengamot court after the status of Faulkner's condition is considered stable or after his passing. If he does pass from the injuries of your attempted murder," Kingsley explained dully, "your arrest will be for the murder of Faulkner Volkov. You will be taken to the Ministry to await your trial. Do you have any questions?"

"No," she hissed as her head hung low, letting her hair fall into her face.

"Come, Sira," Tonks said sadly as she tugged on her arm. They each took one side and led her out of the house. To Sira, it was her death march, no, her march away from her death. She knew her punishment, life in Azkaban, for she did have two other murders to deal with, along with the use of the Cruciatus Curse and being a Death Eater. She sighed; she was totally helpless as her numbness returned. Oh, Sirius, what can I do? She thought. They finally reached the doorstep and vanished with a crack.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sira's eyes were dull as Kingsley and Tonks led her down deep into the Ministry of Magic. All she knew was that they were on the same floor as the Department of Mysteries. Her stomach crawled as Sirius' death replayed in her mind. Tear started to form in her eyes as her memories continued. "Sirius," she whispered and she felt Tonks flinch a little at the name.

Finally, after quite some time, they reached a little room. A little, jail cell was more like it. Tonks entered the room with Sira as Kingsley stood outside the closed door on guard. "Sira, please remove all weapons, including your wand," Tonks stated softly. Sira unstrapped the remaining blades with their sheaths and set them down on a small cot along with her wand. She glared at Tonks with a mixture of anger and fear; she feared that she would have to suffer longer than necessary.

"Tonks," Sira said as her eyes softened for an instant, "what about the other crimes I have committed? Will I be tried for those too?" The question didn't really matter to her, she just needed to know.

"Yes, Sira," she answered softly, causing Sira's stomach to turn, "you are wanted for the other crimes so you will be tried for them too." Sira looked away from Tonks and sat down on the small bed, looking miserable. She put her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands as her tears started to flow from her eyes. She felt so low. Tonks crossed the room and came over to the bed, where she picked up Sira's weapons. She gazed at Sira concerningly, she still couldn't believe that Sira choose this for herself. "Sira, I'll leave you alone now."

She turned to leave but something clung to her wrist, Sira had seized her. "Tonks, please don't go," Sira moaned softly as her blue eyes filled with a dull sorrow. "I need to tell you something."

"What is it, Sira?" Tonks asked, still looking concerned. Sira let out a large sigh.

"I haven't recovered from losing him; I don't think that I ever will. He just can't be gone," she admitted. "I love him, Tonks, and all I want is to be with him, no matter what. We told each other that we would love each other forever and that nothing could separate us." She shook her head a little. "He can't be gone. He still haunts my mind, telling me to let go and I try, Tonks. I try to let go but something keeps me holding on, even if there is nothing to hold on to.

"I'm so alone, I'm so afraid and I let my emotions control me. That's why I tried to kill my uncle tonight," she stated remorsefully as the tears continued to streak down her face. "I'm unstable, Tonks. He was my rock, he kept me sane and, without him," she shook her head again slowly, "I'm nothing. She released Tonks' wrist.

They looked into each other's eyes in silence, Sira's desperate and Tonks' troubled. The air was thick with tension; neither of them knew what to say to each other. Sira's blue eyes begged for death, begged for the end of her miserable life. Tonks' showed that she saw what Sira was feeling but thought that she was being drastic for the situation. "I'm sorry, Sira, but I have to go," Tonks said nervously. She headed quickly to the door with Sira's wand and knifes in her arms. The door opened and she stepped out into the light of the hall. Darkness returned to the room as the door closed and locked with a thud.

Her skin prickled with a sudden chill as she laid herself down on the small cot. Once a Death Eater, forever one, the Dark Lord's cold voice rang in her mind as her vision became blurry. Sira, Sirius' voice filled her ears as a memory of him holding her in his arms flooded her mind. Her body fought a wave of exhaustion, clinging to the memory of Sirius, but ultimately failed. Her world slowly dissolved into black.

"Sira," Anastasia said softly with pain present in her voice, "after greatly improving over the last two days, your uncle has expired." Sira looked at Anastasia and Tonks dully from her cot as a bit of satisfaction swelled in her chest.

"Was it from my wound?" she asked, her eyes expressing her sudden delight.

"Yes," Tonks stated flatly. "The wound you inflicted on him was deep, deep enough to damage his heart severely. The Healers didn't believe that he would have lasted as long as he did with the nature of the wound." Sira gave her a baffled look. "The knife was found to be enchanted with a curse that caused the wounds it inflicted to heal extremely slowly or not at all," Tonks explained. Sira forced back the urge to smile; she didn't know that the blades were charmed.

"Your trial will be tomorrow for the murder of two wizards, planning the murder of another, the use of the Cruciatus Curse, and for being a Death Eater," Anastasia said loudly as if she was having difficulty accepting that her best friend was actually a murderer. "We are to ask you if you have any requests for your trial."

"What do you mean?" Sira questioned as she was very confused. She never heard of anyone else requesting something for their trial.

"Like do you what to have someone there. Or you would want to have something done," Anastasia clarified. Sira thought deeply for a moment, she only had three things she wanted and she assumed that only two of them had the chance to be accepted.

"Well," she sighed, "I would like to have Dumbledore there."

"As a defense?" Tonks asked in skepticism.

"No, no, in the court. I don't plan on trying to defend myself," Sira exhaled. "We all know I'm guilty."

"Anything else?" Anastasia asked gently.

"Yes, I want to be able to wear my necklace while I'm in Azkaban," she said proudly.

"Why?" They both questioned simultaneously.

"It's the only physical thing that I have left of him," she breathed. They looked at her again with concern. She didn't need to say who for they already knew.

"We'll try to make the arrangement for it, Sira," Anastasia stated as her brown eyes stared into Sira's. "Don't worry." With that, they left the room swiftly and silently. She was alone again in her dark, little cage, trapped like an animal. When would she finally be able to let go?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The door to her cell in the Ministry slammed closed, causing Sira to wake instantly. Two men, who looked to be guards from Azkaban, went over to her and hauled her out of the bed and to her feet. She went limb a few times as their grips tightened around her arms. "Get up," they barked as she dropped once more to the floor.

"I'm sorry," she breathed and received a quick jab in her back with one of her wands as she stood. They pulled her out of her cell and into the hallway where the light caused her to stagger again. Her only thought was this is it, this is it. The guards pushed and pulled her through the halls and corridors to the courtrooms.

They finally stopped when they reached a large, wooden door with a colossal iron lock. "Courtroom number 7," one of the guards murmured as he turned the wooden door's iron handle. Once the door was open, she was forced inside ahead of them.

She looked around the courtroom whose walls were dark stone and lit by dim torches. All the benches around her were full of people mumbling and murmuring to each other, but the highest benches were before her. She hadn't realized that she stopped to gawk until she received another jab in the back. She headed over to the chair in the center of the room whose arms were covered in chains. A feeling of vulnerability washed over her as she slowly sank into the chair.

Unexpectedly, the chains came to life and bound her arms, tightening themselves to make sure escape was impossible. She was trapped, secured to the chair. Her eyes looked fearfully around the room and finally looked at the man who sat in the middle of the first row of the highest benches. It was the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

"The accused is present, so let us begin," he called out. "The trial of Sira Volkov for the crimes of murdering two wizards, planning the murder of another wizard, using the Cruciatus Curse, and being a Death Eater is called to order." This statement caused a murmur to spread through the once quiet crowd. The Minister silenced them again as he continued on to give the interrogators and the court scribe. Anger flared in Sira's chest as her feelings of helplessness and vulnerability changed into rage. "The charges against the accused are that she is in alliance with He-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named for she is a known Death Eater, she tortured Igor Karkaroff with the Cruciatus Curse and then proceeded to kill him, she planned the murder of Broderick Bode, and she attempted to murder Faulkner Volkov, whose injuries she inflicted lead to his death," Scrimgeour bellowed.

"Do you, Sira Volkov, admit to the crimes stated in the charge?" he asked, his voice ringing in the room.

"Yes," she stated flatly.

"Do you admit that you are guilty for the crimes?" a wizard on the Minister's left questioned loudly.

"Yes, I admit that I am guilty for the crimes," Sira said sharply as her voice quivered with her irritation. "I did torture and murder Igor Karkaroff last year, planned the murder of Broderick Bode, attempted to kill my uncle just a few days ago, and I'm a Death Eater. We all know it now so stop harassing me. I said I was guilty," she snapped, "so stop asking me to say I am!" Her blue eyes seared with her anger, the fire was burning again.

"Silence, Miss Volkov!" Scrimgeour barked. "We are able to ask you any questions we want and you have to answer them." She glared at him as she fought her binds a bit.

"Now, by our records, you're a member of the Order of the Phoenix," a gray-haired witch to the Minister's right stated, "is this correct?"

"I was a member of the Order," Sira hissed, "but not anymore."

"Why is that?" the witch asked with a hint of mocking in her shrill voice.

"What? Why I left?" she snarled cruelly. "The Order had nothing left for me, nothing after the day in the Department of Mysteries. I lost everything that day and the Order just held me back. So I joined the Death Eaters truly in hopes that one day, I would finally have something, something to live for."

"You say you lost everything, what do you mean by that?" the wizard on Scrimgeour's left asked.

"I lost my love, I lost myself, and I lost my life," Sira explained passionately. "I died that day in the Department of Mysteries and yet I'm still here. I'm still breathing." Someone in the crowd caught her attention. The man was sitting in the benches in front of her but on the left side and about halfway up the tiers. His blue eyes were fixed on her, examining her as they did so multiple times before. It was Dumbledore.

"Tell us, Miss Volkov," the Minister bellowed, "about the attempted murder of Faulkner Volkov. Why did you do it?" She let out a sigh.

"Years ago, when I was seven, he had hired the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters to kill my parents, Dmitri and Azura Volkov. They were successful and my life was ruined," she stated cruelly as she seemed to find her fire. "He deserved what he got. He deserved to get a knife through his heart! He made my life miserable just because I wasn't pure-blooded! He deserved to die for the way he treated me!" she barked, her voice echoing off of the stone walls. The court was silent, dead silent, for the longest time. They never moved an inch, they were shocked. She felt the hundreds of stares on her but Dumbledore's stare was the strongest of any of them.

She sat back in her chair, satisfied with a tiny smile on her faces as the chains dug into her arms. "If the aurors wouldn't have showed up, he would've been long dead," she hissed sinisterly, "and it wouldn't have been from a knife."

"The Killing Curse," someone sighed from the benches to her right.

"Yes, the Killing Curse," Sira responded, "and, most likely, I wouldn't be here now. I would be with my Lord, serving him proudly, instead of being punished for my crimes. He is merciful to those he trusts and I will be welcomed back with open arms. I will return to him someday, even if it's the last thing I do." Her words were soft but the cut like a knife, sending shivers through the crowd. Dumbledore stood and gazed at her, his eyes filled with horror and yet understanding. He knew that this may happen but he didn't expect it. He looked as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words to say.

"Miss Volkov, you requested to continue to wear a necklace while in Azkaban, seeming to know that you will spend life there," the Minister finally stated, trying to rid the room of the chill she made, "is this true?"

"Yes," Sira said flatly.

"Why have you requested this?" Scrimgeour asked smoothly.

"The necklace was given to me by-." She stopped as the tears welled up in her eyes. The memory of the Department of Mysteries filled her mind: Sirius falling through the veil, Bellatrix's triumphant scream, the Dark Lord's proposition, and Sirius' sad goodbye. She couldn't say it, she couldn't say his name. It felt as if she would be accepting his death. "It was given to me by my love to remember him by. It's all I have left of him now, and, if I can't wear it, I'll feel that I have lost him forever."

"Who is your love?" the witch asked. Sira flinched with the thought of saying his name.

"Sirius Black," Dumbledore bellowed for he knew she wouldn't be able to say it.

"I'm sorry, Albus, but you are not allowed to speak to the accused," Scrimgeour said slowly and loudly, almost like a roar. Sira locked eyes with Dumbledore and mouthed the words 'thank you' to him. "Now, who is your love?"

"The man that Dumbledore said," she replied monotonously.

"Sirius Black?" the witch asked quickly and Sira nodded her head as an answer. Dumbledore sat back down slowly, his eyes still examining her. The room finally filled with murmurs, ending the icy quietness. "He is dead," the witch stated. "He died a mistaken man in the Department of Mysteries, in the Death Chamber, as the Death Eaters attempted to steal a prophecy.

"Don't. You. Say. He's. Dead," she snarled as her rage returned in a flash. "He is not dead! He can't be dead!" She had silenced the court again with her words for they didn't take their eyes off of her. The witch that sat beside the Minister's mouth fell open out of shock.

"I believe we have heard enough," the Minister called loudly with no emotion in his voice. "Now, your crimes, Miss Volkov, are punishable by life in Azkaban. It is the only punishment that the court can come up with for the heinous crimes you have committed.

"Now, I ask the jury to raise their hands if they believe that Sira Volkov should be sentenced to life in Azkaban." Slowly, the hands of the jury raised into the air. No one seemed completely confident in their choice for even the other wizards and witches not in the jury took a while to start clapping in agreement. Every jury member had their hand in the air except for Dumbledore, who looked at her with dull confidence. "Also, if the jury believes that she should be allowed to keep her necklace in Azkaban," the hands dropped from the last verdict, "please raise your hand," the Minister called out.

A few hands shot up immediately, including Dumbledore's. It seemed to take ages for the hands to go up but a least three-fourths of the jury agreed. "All opposed same sign." The hands dropped and the other fourths went up.

"You are allowed, Miss Volkov, to keep your necklace while you serve your sentence in Azkaban," Scrimgeour stated unhappily. "Guards, take her away." The chains loosened from her arms as the guards pulled her up from it. She didn't feel anything; all she thought of was spending the rest of her life in Azkaban as they dug her to the exit. Their grips were like vices on her arms. No four walls can hold me forever, she told herself. I can't just rot in Azkaban. I will escape someday. I don't know how but I will… even if it kills me.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The guards pushed Sira through the enormous, iron gates of Azkaban. Her body went cold for the air here was sharp and icy, as if it was a brutal winter all of the time. The doors slammed shut behind them with a metallic thud as the lock began to turn. Within the prison, all was dark and an eerie silence hung in the air, only broken by the occasional scream. She fought the grips of the guards as they led her down a long, grey hall. It was a useless struggle for they were much stronger than her. She couldn't give up though, not now, not ever.

Unexpectedly, she broke free of their grasps and sprinted blindly down the hall, her footsteps echoing off of the stone floor. She didn't care where she was going as long as it was a far away from the guards as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest, accelerated by her fear. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground with the weight of one of the guards upon her as he wrenched her arms behind her back. He successfully shackled her hands. "Get up!" the guard barked, his voice raspy with power, as he stood. She couldn't move and the two guards forced her to her feet, causing her to whimper.

They started again on their sluggish walk through the hall, her still fighting them all the way. The finally reached an old, wooden door that had the word 'uniforms' carved into it. One of the guards, who looked older for his hair was graying a bit, pushed the door open as the other, younger, well-muscled, with handsome, reddish-blonde hair, ushered her forcefully through the door. She looked around the room; it was full of dull-gray uniforms and was dimly lit by torches on the dark, stone walls.

The older guard quickly chose a uniform as the younger one unshackled her hands while still having a firm grip on her. She wondered if the tightness of his grip would leave bruises. The uniform was tossed to her rapidly and she barely caught it. "Now, strip," the red-blonde guard ordered.

"With you two in the room?" she asked sheepishly.

"Yes, do as I say," he retorted sharply. She obeyed hesitantly. She shed her clothing and dawned the grey uniform. It was completely grey except for the black and white prison number. By the uniform, she was prisoner number 20402. The older guard collected her clothing and put them in a bin. The uniform was stiff and scratchy on her skin as if it had never been worn before.

Once they exited the uniform room, they headed for another door just a few feet away. Inside was dark like the rest of the prison and nearly empty except for a camera, a table with a few things on it, and a stool. The young guard forced her to sit on the stool as the other bought over a board with her prisoner number on it. He put it in her hands as the other guard readied the camera for the picture. All she did was sit there, gazing angrily into the camera as the picture was taken. She didn't know how to feel about this, whether to be angry, upset, or miserable. "Now, some paperwork," the graying guard said softly as he went over to the small table after taking the board away from her.

"Prisoner No. 20402. Name: Sira Volkov," he murmured to himself as he wrote on some forms. "Crime: Murder of two, planning another murder, use of the Cruciatus Curse, and a Death Eater. Sentence: Life. Security Level: Maximum." The rest he finished in silence as the young guard re-shackled her hands. Once the forms were completed, they drug her out of the room and through multiple halls, up many staircases, and across a few walkways, all with her head hung low. She didn't see the need to fight any longer. She was doomed. Guards were everywhere, numbers seeming to increase with the security level. Lower security levels were in the lower floors of the prison and the level rose as one would move upward.

It seemed to take ages but, finally, they reached the maximum security level. The air here was colder than the rest of the building and the moans and the scream seemed constant. A shiver went down her spine.

Fear, all she felt was fear.

She struggled against the guards' grips. The hall was lined with iron-bar doors. Her eyes widened as she fought harder. She reeled back, refusing to go any further. "No… no… no!" she shrieked terribly, her voice high and wavering. She couldn't be trapped like this. She would go insane.

"Come on!" the guards snarled as they continued to yank her down the hall. Her shrieks filled the hall with the terrible sound. Slowly, they were making their way to her cell.

The faces of the other prisoners peered through the iron bars as she passed, still balking. Her eyes filled with her panic. Sweat beaded up on her face. The faces behind the bars were familiar. All of them were Death Eaters.

"Sira," a male voice said. She went still, stiff with her recognition. She knew the voice, the cold, serious, yet passionate voice. Her head turned to the source of the sound.

White-blond hair fell around his deteriorating face in disarray as his usually cold, grey eyes looked at her with a dull hope. It was him.

"Lucius," she whispered back as her eyes glittered in the dull light. Time stood still.

"Come on!" the red-blonde guard barked as he yanked her forward. The guards opened the cell door next to the cell Lucius was in and shoved her through. She stumbled but regained her balance as the young guard came to unshackle her. "Do you know whose cell this used to be?" he asked cruelly into her ear as the shackles fell from her wrists.

"No," she breathed, fearing a punishment.

"It used to be Sirius Black's," he stated, proud of his knowledge. "He spent all those years here in this very cell as an innocent man," he shook his head as she observed at him with horror. "Oh well." Oh well? Oh well! How can he say that! She screamed in her mind. The guard left the room in a hurry, slamming the cell door behind him and locking it with a heavy iron bolt.

She studied the cell. It was dark, the only light coming from through the door and a small window on the opposite wall. The walls were completely stone and there was an ancient, grey cot in the corner. The air was bitterly cold, as if the Dementors still roamed the halls. They weren't here for they served the Dark Lord now. She took her time examining the cell, looking for something, anything. Distraught, she went over to the cot and sat down. Sirius had told her about his time in Azkaban but she didn't believe that what he was saying was completely true. It was horrible here.

He had told her about how almost every prisoner brought in was screaming by the end of their first day and how they went quite after a few days. He also said that people would go mad from the effects of the Dementors and how they would also lose the will to live. Some prisoners would actually stop eating. He said that it was not uncommon for prisoners to die during their time in Azkaban, for they did deteriorate quickly. She believed him now. The place smelled of death, even without the Dementors.

Sirius had spent twelve years here, in this very cell, she thought. I wonder how he did it, how he tolerated the agony. He didn't even commit the crime. I wonder what kept him fighting. She knew this, though. He knew his innocence and he wanted to at least murder the man that truly made him come here. Peter Pettigrew. He wanted retribution and he almost had it, until Pettigrew escaped again and forced Sirius into hiding. He had spent his time on the run until last year, when the Order reformed. She could see him now, living in this very cell.

How can I keep fighting? She asked herself. Why do I keep fighting? She lay down on the cot and gazed up at the stone ceiling, her eyes hazy with her thoughts. I have lost everything, or have I? Have I truly lost everything so there is nothing to live for? If so, why am I still here? Her vision started to blur as a wave of exhaustion crashed upon her. Will I ever know the answers? Her breaths became deep and rhythmic as her world went dark.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sira sat in the darkest corner of her cell with her knees drawn up to her chest, lost in thought. Her chin rested on her knees as her hair fell messily down her back. It had grown quite a bit, was badly matted in places, and had lost its beautiful luster. Her face was deteriorating, her cheeks hollowing as her blue eyes looked tired and stressed. It had only been a month since she arrived here. It seemed like decades.

Many of the prison guards grew concerned about her for she didn't suffer like the other prisoners. She hadn't screamed once since the day they brought her in, not even in her sleep. She seemed normal, unshaken. What the guards didn't know was that she was trying to form a plan for her escape. Every one of the plans so far were either useless or the risk of failure was too high. She was about to give up. The sound of the door opening broke off her thoughts abruptly.

"20402, I need to speak with you," the guard said as Sira examined him. He was young, one of the newest guards here. From what she heard, it was rare for a man so young and inexperienced to become a guard on the maximum security level. His hair was messy and golden blonde, but perfect in every way. His eyes were a brilliant, emerald green that glittered like jewels in the light. He was handsome, very well built, and perfectly muscled. Sira was surprised that he was a prison guard.

"Yes," she said her voice a little raspy. He closed the door behind him and kept himself between her and the door. She could finally read his last name off of his badge, the only name on it. Blackwood.

"The Ministry is allowing all prisoners an hour out of their cells daily," he stated emotionlessly. "Our problem is that you are the only female, maximum security prisoner and we are starting with only the same level prisoners with each other. We don't want you to be harmed if you were allowed out with the male prisoners."

"Oh, okay," she sighed with a little surprise in her voice.

"Although, we decided to let you make the decision to spend your hour alone or with the male prisoners," he said confidently.

"I don't mind being with the guys," Sira said smoothly. "I am capable of defending myself and I know most of them already." He nodded and turned towards the door. He was just about to open it.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked in a child-like voice.

"What?"

"What's wrong with me? Why haven't I been affected by this place like the others have?" she asked, a bit of concern in her voice.

"We don't know, 20402. It is something we, guards, ask all of the time," he replied. Her blue eyes looked at him innocently, as if she had done nothing wrong.

"Are you forced to call me 20402?" she questioned gently.

"Yes," he answered her.

"Oh," she sighed, "I wish you would just call me Sira." His emerald eyes gazed at her with a gloomy understanding. He nodded his head once and opened the door. She gave him a look that seemed to be begging him to stay but he didn't seem to notice at all. The door closed softly and she leaned back against the stone wall with a smile on her face. Maybe one of her plans would work after all.

Her cell door opened and Blackwood stepped inside. "20402, it is time for you hour out of your cell. Are you ready?" he asked as she sat up from lying on the cot. She nodded her head as she stood up and then walked slowly to him. Her eyes gazed into his softly, conveying a calm confidence. He grabbed her upper arm carefully and led her out of her cell.

In the hall, the light caused her eyes to flutter. It seemed too bright. He led her through the whole prison, their footsteps echoing off the walls, to the lowest floor. Once there, they headed to an area that looked like a sports arena with the tiers. It was set deep into the floor and a few prisoners were already in the pit. She wondered how she would get down.

"Come this way," Blackwood whispered to her. He pulled her gently towards a staircase which they dashed down, and found themselves in another dark hall. The only light came from the very limited number of torches on the walls. "Are you sure you're ready?" Blackwood asked.

"Yes," she whispered back sweetly. He nodded and led her down the hall to a stone door. He drew his wand and trapped the door three times in a perfect cadence. The door groaned and slid open just enough to let her through.

She had never felt so odd, so trapped. This is the way the pit made her feel. The door slid back to its original position as she observed the space. The men that were here were all Death Eaters but Sira didn't know any of them very well, just their names. There were only eight in the arena including her. "Hello, traitor," a voice snarled into her ear. She gasped as she turned around rapidly. She knew the voice too well.

Standing there in front of her with rage burning in his eyes was Lucius Malfoy. His body started to tremble with his fury. "Lucius," she said softly, sounding surprised and concerned.

"Don't you 'Lucius' me, traitor," he snarled. "You deceived us, all of us. We trusted you; we invited you into our homes and all just to be stabbed in the back." His eyes glared at her sinisterly, murderously. "You're just an insignificant half-blood and that's all you will ever be."

"I may be an insignificant half-blood but you didn't mind that before," she mocked cruelly, her eyes daring him to fight back.

"That was a different time," he hissed as his eyes flicked with an old passion. A smile spread across her face.

"It wasn't a different time, Lucius," she said seductively as she stepped closer to him, her eyes glaring at his. "You still feel the same way about me. I can see it in your eyes."

"You disgust me. All you are is filth," he barked as the longing flared brighter in his angry eyes.

"Don't lie to me," she hissed smoothly. He started to clinch his fists. "I didn't put you here; I didn't cause you to go to prison. I was just getting information for a useless cause but I found my place now. I know where I belong and that is with the Dark Lord."

His fist connected with her jaw, the force causing her to stumble backwards. "You don't belong there, you don't belong anywhere," he growled cruelly as she glared at him. She regained her balance and kicked him hard in the shin. He staggered and received another blow to the other shin. His hand found her shoulder and jerked her towards him. She yelped in pain. He shook her violently as she punched him in the ribs. Fury burned in their eyes and Sira let out a snarl.

Suddenly, they stopped and gazed into each other's eyes passionately. His serious, grey eyes gleamed with longing, with lust and hers did the same. She moved in close and he forced his mouth onto hers. She weaved her hand into his tangled, blonde hair as his hand glided down her side. She cupped the side of his face with the other and slowly slid it down to his chest. The kiss was wild, vicious, and anger filled. Her right leg hooked around his.

"Hey! HEY! BREAK IT UP!" a guard shouted as he raced towards them. They didn't stop, they would never stop. The guard gripped her shoulder violently and forced her away from Lucius. She struggled; she fought the guard, causing more guards to come to aid. Some went to restrain Lucius but most of them were trying to subdue her. Her eyes grew cold and dark as a cruel smile spread across her face. She let out an evil laugh as her struggled continued. Her face turned from full of laughter to horrified to emotionless as her body sank to the floor. Her world went suddenly black.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Sir, I'm worried about Prisoner 20402," Blackwood said as his emerald eyes looked at the warden of Azkaban. The warden was sitting in a chair behind his desk as Blackwood stood at the front of the desk. He gave Blackwood a puzzled look and stood and went to a filing cabinet. He opened the top drawer and pulled a file out. He went back to his chair and sat down.

"Let's see," he mumbled. "Sira Volkov, blue eyes, dark-brown hair, female, life sentence, maximum security, convicted for two murders…" He thumbed through the rest of the file quickly and silently. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem is her behavior, sir," Blackwood stressed. "One day she is depressed, the next, she tries to kill you, and then she is manically happy. Sometimes," he explained as concern shown in his eyes, "she signs. She actually sings, sir."

"What does she sing about?" the warden asked as he crossed his legs and put his feet up on his desk. Blackwood gave him a questioning glare, his eyes snarled, 'does it matter what she sings?'

"Mostly her life," he replied.

"Does she have a certain song that she usually sings?" the warden asked.

"Well, there is one," Blackwood explained. "It goes, 'I'm a half-blood and a traitor and I'm bored. I'm a half-blood and a traitor and I'm bored. I'm a half-blood and traitor and the Dark Lord will surely kill me 'cause I'm a half-blood and a traitor and I'm bored.'"

"Um, peculiar," the warden mumbled as he rubbed his chin.

"Sir, what do you want me to do?" Blackwood asked.

"Has her condition got steadily worse since her breakdown during her hour of exercise a month ago?" the warden asked as he started to read her file again.

"Yes it has, sir," Blackwood stated confidently as he sat down on a wooden chair near the warden's desk. "Her first month here, she did nothing. She never screamed; she never really suffered. She was just here and now, as I said earlier, her mood is constantly changing. She is unpredictable, unstable."

"Um, this is an odd case for nothing like this has ever happened before, even with the Dementors here," the warden stated as he set her file down on his desk. "I guess there are only a few things that we can do."

"Sir?" Blackwood asked as the warden stood and started to pace the room. Blackwood's eyes followed him. After a while, the warden stopped and looked at Blackwood.

"Lark, all we can do now is watch her. If you see that she is continuing to get worse, come and tell me. Are we clear?" he asked flatly as if lost in thought.

"Yes, sir," Lark Blackwood said proudly as he rose from his chair.

"Now get back to your post." With that Lark left the warden's office and headed back to the maximum security level.

"The night is coming,  
"the night brings death,  
"but do not fear, my love,  
"for it is nothing.

"Nothing but blackness,  
"nothing but dark,  
"nothing but sadness,  
"nothing but a knife through the heart."

Her voice filled her cell with the sad song. She didn't know what she was singing; it just came from her heart. Her voice was dark and beautiful, swelling in all the right places. Her cell door opened with a creak.

"20402," Blackwood stated as he looked at her with concern. She stopped her song abruptly.

"Yes," she said with curiosity.

"Can you please stop singing?" he asked as he closed the door behind him.

"Why? I don't have any control over it," she stated as she walked over to him. "Don't you think my singing is beautiful?"

"Yes, it's very beautiful but it's bothering the other prisoners," he said softly.

"Oh, okay," she sighed sounding defeated. "I don't mean to be rude but," she moved closer to him slowly, "you're so handsome and so well-muscled, why are you a prison guard?" She flashed her eyes at him seductively as she tilted her head a little.

"It's just what I wanted to be," Blackwood said proudly as he looked at her with a little desire. She had him right where she wanted him.

"Hmm, do you have a girlfriend or a wife? I wouldn't be surprised if a handsome, strong, caring, young man such as yourself would have one," she said passionately as she touched his upper arm.

"No, I'm single," he replied as she moved her hand to his chest. She slowly nodded her head and gazed into his eyes. There was something about her eyes that made his heart flutter.

"What's your name?" she asked sweetly as she moved into his chest, he didn't resist.

"Lark Blackwood," he whispered as his emerald eyes filled with his longing. He carefully touched her cheek and brushed away a piece of hair out of her face. "Even after suffering in Azkaban," he breathed, "you're so beautiful." She gave him a sweet smile.

"You're so sweet, Lark," she whispered kindly. He leaned in close, their lips almost touching. He seemed a little uneasy, a little unsure. She moved her hand up to his face as his mouth met hers. His lips were soft and gentle on hers but they held a passion, a hunger that he was so desperately trying to hold back. Slowly, his mouth pulled away from hers and he held her in his arms.

"Sira, hopefully you know that I'm concerned about you," he whispered into her ear. "I've never seen anyone act like you do. It's like you're a different person every day and it worries me."

"I can't control it, Lark," she said as her tears welled up in her eyes. "I can't control myself. I never used to be like this."

"It's okay, Sira. We're going to get you some help if you get any worse," Lark breathed as he released her from his arms and she stepped back away from him and went over to her cot. Slowly, she sank down on the cot as her body started to tremble. "Sira?"

"Get out of here, Lark," she hissed sinisterly as a fire burned in her eyes. Her lips twisted in a cruel snarl. "Get out!" she barked. He rushed out of the cell in an instant, slamming the door behind him with a sharp thud. A sinister smile formed on her face, her plan was going perfectly. She stopped trembling and lay down on her cot, satisfied with her work as she thought of Lark running through the halls to get her help.

Sira sat against the cool stone of the wall in the arena-like exercise area as she watched the other prisoners. It had been a week since Lark had kissed her and she had been deemed unstable and dangerous to the other guards; she had already attacked two of them. A smirk flashed across her face as she thought of how she tried to strangle one of the guards, of how her hands tightened around his thick neck, and of how he squirmed.

Lark grew more and more concerned about her. She swore that he truly did have feeling for her, but she didn't feel the same. There was no emotion in it, there was no desire. She was just using him to get what she wanted. My Lord will be pleased, something within her purred.

Yes, my Lord will be pleased, she thought back as her smirk grew colder. The darkness warmed her, comforted her, and empowered her.

"Sira, what are you doing here against the wall?" Lucius asked coldly as he sat down beside her. She noticed that there were beads of sweat on his forehead.

"I'm just thinking," she stated flatly. He gave her an unconvinced look.

"The word is you're unstable and a threat," he hissed arrogantly. "I have to say I halfway agree." She glared at him sinisterly, not believing that he really didn't know what she was doing.

"You don't know me, do you?" she asked coldly as she stood. "Besides, you have better things to do than to be thinking about me. You should be thinking about your family or, maybe, even your own life, like how you messed it up or what you've missed out on."

"What do you mean by how I messed up my life?" he snapped with anger in his grey eyes.

"How you got yourself landed in Azkaban," she hissed. She could easily see his anger, his whole body showed it. With a turn of her heel, she lifted her chin and walked away from him and over to a group of men. They weren't Death Eaters but they all looked to be in their twenties, about her age. One of them caught her eyes for he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He had long, dark, tangled hair with a streak of red in it. He looked as if he had been here for a while. "'ello, miss," he said as she walked past him. She stopped and watched at him.

"Hello," she said seductively as her blue eyes studied him.

"What's your name, beautiful?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"Sira. Sira Volkov," she said proudly as she pushed some of her hair out of her face, "and who do I have you pleasure of meeting?" His smile widened a bit as he stepped closer to her.

"Call me Scabior," he replied cockily and she flashed him a small smile.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Scabior," she said kindly as she started to walk away.

"Wait," he said quickly as he grabbed her shoulder, "I need to ask you something." She turned and looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion. "Didn't you kill two wizards and aren't you a Death Eater? You seem too, 'ow do I say it, sweet." She flashed him a big smile and touched the side of his face.

"There're a lot of things that you can't tell about me, Scabior, but yes. Yes, I did," she said passionately as her eyes softened. She walked away slowly but she couldn't stifle the manic laugh that broke out of her chest.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Her dark cell was filled with her high, manic laughter. She laughed so hard that she was crawling around on the floor, clutching her stomach. The laugh filled the whole prison but she didn't know it. She was weak from her laughter and almost collapsed multiple times as she struggled for oxygen. "Sira," Lark said, his voice shaking a bit, as he opened the cell door and raced over to her.

"Hey, Lark," she said happily as her laughter diminished in intensity. His eyes glimmered with concern as he looked at her, which caused her to laugh harder. He helped her to her feet and carefully led her to her cot.

"There are some nice people that are here to see you," Lark said politely as he sat down beside her, holding her hands in her lap. "They're here to help you, Sira. All they want to do is help." His gaze shifted from her to the cell door. "It's all right. You can come in now," he called to it.

Two ladies shuffled into the cell. They both were wearing the same uniform, lime-green with an emblem of a crossed wand and bone on their chest. They also both wore the same mothering smile. Really, the only difference between the two women was that one was a little fuller-figured with black hair and silver eyes while the other was skinny with short, auburn hair and green eyes. Sira knew instantly that they were Healers. The skinner witch held a goblet in her hands.

"Hello, Sira," said the black-haired Healer, "it's very nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Sira replied, still laughing a little.

"Sira," the other Healer said as she approached her and offered her the goblet, "If you could please drink this. It will help you." Sira took the goblet from the witch and raised it to her lips. It contained a potion that smelled like the potion that Madam Pompfry gave her last year to give her a dreamless sleep.

She tilted her head back, allowing the goblet's contents to fill her mouth and pour down her throat. She drank deeply for she knew that she would have to finish the potion quickly. It had already started to affect her. Her eyelids grew heavy and she leaned against Lark, trying hard to stay awake. "The warden gave me order to stay with her while she is in the hospital," Lark explained quickly to the Healers, "since she still is a prisoner."

"Of course, that is understandable," one of the Healers said. They sounded so distant even though they were only a few feet away. "Hopefully, your training won't have to be put into use." With the Healer's words still lingering in her head, sleep overcame her and, bringing with it, darkness.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She wasn't in her cell anymore, she was somewhere totally different. The room she was in was fairly small and the walls were made of paneled oak. There were many beds running down the wall and some were occupied by people. Curtains divided off each of the areas around the beds. She looked around with confusion in her eyes. There was a small wooden table to her right and a chair facing her bed against the wall facing her. Where am I? She asked herself. All she knew was she wasn't in Azkaban.

"Healer, what do you believe is wrong with Sira?' Lark asked as he walked with the black-haired Healer towards her bed.

"We believe that she is suffering from some type of muggle mental disorder," the Healer explained.

"What type?" Lark questioned quickly.

"We think that she may be suffering from depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, mania, bipolar disorder, or an anxiety disorder. We don't know which one but, luckily, we can easily treat her with a process we, Healers, call 'sedation and rehabilitation.' The process may take a long time but we want to make sure that she is normal before we send her back to Azkaban," the Healer explained. "If we didn't she could relapse back into her current state."

"I understand," Lark stated. "What do you do in 'sedation and rehabilitation'?"

"At first, we'll keep her sedated so she won't be a danger to anyone and she will be relaxed. Slowly, we will wean her off of the sedative as we rehabilitate her not to act the way she did. Hopefully by the end, she'll be a totally different person," the Healer stated proudly. She glanced over at Sira with a bright smile. "Sira, did you have a good sleep? You seem to be doing fine." Sira nodded and the Healer turned away from Lark and walked back down the ward. Lark shuffled over to her bedside, bringing the chair along with him and sat. His emerald green eyes gazed at her patiently.

"Lark," Sira said softly, "where am I?"

"You're in a closed ward on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," he stated kindly as if he was speaking to a child. She gave him a questioning look. "The warden thought it would be best for you to be treated here at the hospital rather than in prison. Less stress, you see. Luckily, the hospital let you come since they don't usually treat non-magical related problems."

"Oh, so what's wrong with me?" she asked in a child-like tone.

"The Healers believe that you are suffering from a muggle mental disorder. Don't worry," he stated proudly as he took her hand gently, "it's easy to fix and you'll be fine." How do you know what fine is? She asked in her thoughts. She looked into his eyes and gave him a small, sweet smile. He was so kind to her and he was so caring. He didn't seem to have any part of him dark or evil, but that made him too trusting and being too trusting made him weak. She doubted that he could even tell she was using him.

"Hello, Sira." She searched for the source of the voice and found the auburn-haired Healer, who was in her cell in Azkaban earlier, standing at the foot of her bed. "It's time to take your medication."

"Medication?" Sira asked. They are actually going to drug me! She thought fiercely. The Healer was holding another goblet in her hands as she glided over to Sira's side, offering her the goblet. She took it hesitantly; it wasn't the normal sleeping potion. The rim of the goblet was on her lips. She didn't want to drink it but she knew she had to or they would make her. She drank deeply, feeling no affect for the longest time after she finished.

Then, gradually, her body started to become limp and dull and her mind numbed. She felt like she was in a trance or she was floating on a cloud and then her eyelids began to grow heavy. She didn't sleep though. Her blue eyes looked over to Lark's handsome face. It was the last thing she remembered for the longest time.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Lark was sitting by Sira's bedside as he read a book. Sira was asleep and it was late. There truly was no need to guard. Over the last three weeks, Sira's condition had been rapidly improving and, by the end of the first week, the Healers were already decreasing the amount of her sedative. She turned out to be such a sweet girl, so caring and so tender-hearted. Lark told himself every day when she was in Azkaban that something was wrong with her, something that she couldn't control that was making her act the way she did and do the things she had done. Tomorrow, she would be taken back to her cell in Azkaban, to live out the rest of her days.

He didn't think that it was right; he didn't think that she should suffer for what she had no control over. She had a mental problem, it wasn't her fault, but he couldn't do anything about it. She would send the rest of her life in Azkaban and nothing could change that.

He looked up at her from his book. Her whole body was relaxed and showing no signs of stress. Her face was less hollow because of the excellent care she was receiving here in the hospital. She was more beautiful now than he had ever seen her before. Her body shifted slowly as her cerulean-blue eyes opened and gazed into his face.

"Hi," she said with a little, sleepy smile. He loved the way she smiled and the way she looked at him. He reached out and held her hand that hung off of the side of the bed. "Lark, will I have to go back?" she asked, her eyes showing her worry.

"Yes, tomorrow," he whispered as his gaze turned concerned.

"I don't want to go back," she breathed innocently. "I want to stay here, but I knew that, someday, I would have to go back."

"I know, Sira. I know," he exhaled as he set his book aside and sat himself down on the edge of her bed. He released her hand and pushed the hair out of her face. She sat up, gazing longingly and pleadingly into his eyes. Her hands gently touched his chest, making his skin prickle under his shirt. He leaned closer to her as she moved into his chest. Their lips met in a kiss as her blue eyes closed. On the inside, she was proud of herself for tricking him into loving her for she left nothing in return. He was dough in her hands, nothing more, nothing less.

"Lark," she breathed as her lips parted from his, "how can you love me? I'm just a murderer. I'm just a criminal."

"You didn't mean to do those things," he said passionately. "I knew it from the day I met you. You were just a poor, tortured soul who had a problem." She nodded and slid away from his as she lay back down. He stood and returned to his seat. She watched him as he started reading his book again with a smile on her face.

Slowly, his head began to lull from side to side as he was obviously fighting to stay awake. He didn't know that she had hidden a sedative pill under her tongue, which she had kept from today's final medication, and given it to him during their kiss. The sedative along with being tired would put him to slumber. Soon, he was asleep and she crawled out of the bed. She was still in her prison uniform.

"Accio wand," she whispered quickly, causing Lark's wand to fly into her hand. She gripped it tightly. It felt off-balanced and unnatural in her hand. I guess the wand actually does choose the person, she thought. She raced through the ward looking for the exit. Surprisingly, there were no Healers in the ward. Finally, she reached the door as her heart hammered with excitement in her chest.

"Alohomora," she whispered as the lock on the door clicked open quickly. She pushed the heavy door opened and softly closed it behind her. She kept into the hall, her eyes searching the darkness for any signs of movement. There was none in the dimness. Her heart steadied itself as she moved down the hall towards what she thought was the staircase. Her journey there seemed to take a lifetime. She crept down the staircase, one stair at a time, until she felt like she was far enough from the ward, and then she flew down them.

Floor after floor, down she went as fast as possible until she finally reached the first floor. Almost there, she told herself. Almost to freedom. Her pace slowed to a purposeful walk as she glided into the lobby of the hospital. No one was there, it was too easy.

A shot of fear went through her. She heard footsteps and voices. Her heat leaped as she sprinted towards the exit. She didn't have much time. The wand slipped out of her hand as she found herself out on an empty street. The only thing on the street was a motorcycle, no people, no animals, just the motorcycle. It was her only chance.

She ran over to it, trying hard to remember how to start it. Once, her muggle relatives allowed her to ride one, but soon she was not allowed to ride another one even again for her cousin said that she had wretched his to cover up his accident. As she hoped, it kicked to life easily, roaring as it did so, and she was off. Off into the night, never to return to Azkaban.

MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISONER ESCAPES

Last night, Sira Volkov, a two-time murderer sentence to life in Azkaban, escaped from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Volkov was admitted into a closed ward for a mental condition to receive treatment and then would be sent back to Azkaban. The Healer that cared for Volkov said that 'she was the kindest, little thing and the she wouldn't hurt a fly,' and also that 'she seemed sincerely sorry for her crimes.' Now, looking back on it, the Healers say that they should have been more careful with Volkov and have had more security around her, other than one, locked door and one prison guard.

The guard that was with Volkov, Lark Blackwood, has been questioned about the events and believes that the escape was entirely his fault for he had dosed off and Volkov used this as a time to act. He was not able to be interviewed. Currently, Blackwood's position is being discussed whether or not to allow him to continue working at the prison.

The Minister spoke this morning of the escape in a small meeting of officials and reporters. He declared that, "Volkov is cunning and poses a threat to the entire magical world. Everyone will need to be on alert. She is dangerous, one of the most dangerous we have ever seen. Also, I do not believe that she ever had a mental disorder. I believe that she convinced everyone that there was something wrong with her so her escape would be far easier. We need to put forth every effort into finding her, though, and stopping her before she can commit another murder."

Once again, Volkov is dangerous and, if you see her, do not confront her and contact your magical authorities.

Her blue eyes pierced through the darkness of the aging night. It had only been two days since she escaped and she had been leading the authorities on a wild goose chase through the country side for most of the time. Now, she crouched low in the bushes near her dead Uncle Faulkner's house, waiting for the perfect time to strike again, this time unarmed for her wand, knifes, and her other possessions were taken from her before she went to Azkaban. She needed them back and her aunt, Faulkner's wife, probably knew where they were.

The sound of the front door of the house opening caught her attention and she shifted into a wolf. Her aunt stepped out of the house, going on her usual morning walk, except this time, she looked worried and stressed. Sira could almost smell her fear, even from a distance. Her aunt headed down the road quickly as Sira slunk across the yard to the side of the house. She knew she didn't have much time to get into the house so she treaded quickly on her wolven paws to the front door. Lucky for her, the closet neighbor was a great distance away.

She reached the door and, to her luck again, found it open for her aunt didn't close it completely. It pushed open easily and Sira left it the way she found it. Her eyes glittered with her hunger, her fire. As she shifted from wolf to human, she concealed herself in a dark corner of the front room behind a large, leather chair. She just got herself settled and the house silent again when the door opened and her aunt entered the house. Sira couldn't help the smile on her face.

The sound of the door closing filled the house as her aunt headed out of the entryway and into the front room, obviously heading towards the dining room. Sira moved quickly, jumping out of her hiding place and rushing up to her aunt from behind. She collided with her, causing her aunt to stumble forward a little.

Sira's hand covered her mouth, not allowing her to fall or scream. Her aunt's breaths were wild pants as Sira's heart raced with her excitement.

"Hello, Auntie," she hissed into her aunts ear.

She couldn't help the cruel cackle of laughter that broke from her chest, the laugh that sent shivers down her aunt's spine.

Her aunt let out a terrible, muffled scream.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Sira's aunt was weak in her grip, straining to ever stand. She knew that she was going to die, just like Faulkner had, but she couldn't believe it. Sira was supposed to be in Azkaban for life. Not here, not holding her still and covering her mouth with an iron grip that held the threat of death. She was too feeble to fight her for her grief from Faulkner's passing had strained her. "Now, if you do everything I say, when I say it," Sira snarled cruelly into her aunt's ear as her blue eyes shone with bloodlust, "maybe I will let you live. Got it?" Her aunt nodded her head quickly.

"Good. Give me your wand," she snarled as her aunt reached slowly and drew her wand. She raised it over her shoulder and then Sira snatched it out of her hand, placing it under her chin like a blade. Sira knew that she couldn't interrogate her here. Thinking fast, she daggered her aunt's stressed body to the staircase that led to the basement. She released her, pushing her down the stairs and pressing the wand against her back.

The basement was like the rest of the house, dull and dark. A perfect place to torture someone, Sira thought. Her aunt was on her hands and knees on the floor, wheezing a bit, her breath rattling in her lungs as her eyes shone with her terror. Sira couldn't stop the sinister smile on her face. She was cruel; she was a murderer.

"W-What are you-you going to do to me?" her aunt asked with horror in her voice.

"Whatever it takes to get the information I want from you," she snarled viciously as her voice turned thick with her anger. Her aunt gazed at her, her eyes pleading, begging for mercy. Sira raised the wand with a low laugh. "Crucio."

Her aunt screamed with her pain, her body falling to the dusty, wooden floor. She shook uncontrollably as a wave of satisfaction washed over Sira. She broke the curse and her aunt curled up into fetal position and the tears started to pour from her eyes. "Tell me, did Faulkner, my sweet, old uncle, say anything about me before he died?" Sira asked in an unsettling growl.

"Yes," her aunt squawked as she started to tremble again.

"What did he say?" she asked, feeding off of her aunt's pain.

"He said- he said that you-you were… filth," her aunt wheezed carefully, "and that you-you deserved to rot in Azkaban." Sira had started to circle her aunt just like the Dark Lord did to her in the Department of Mysteries.

"Did he now? Hmm, well then. Crucio," Sira said proudly, her eyes ablaze with the fire within her, the Dark Lord's fire. Her aunt cried out a blood-curdling shriek and then Sira broke off the curse again. "You know, the Dark Lord will be pleased with me for I will be returning to him shortly, to serve him proudly, but first, I need my wand and my other possessions. Where are they?"

"I don't know," her panted softly. "I don't know."

"LIAR!" Sira barked furiously. "Crucio!" Another shrill scream came from her aunt as she withered on the ground in agony. The darkness within her stirred, satisfied and wanting more. She stopped again. Was this like what Bellatrix had done to the Longbottoms? Sira thought so with the smile dropping from her face and being replaced with a scowl. "Now, where is MY WAND?"

"I don't know," her aunt whined. She looked at Sira, her eyes showing her distress. "Please… have mercy…"

"When did you and Faulkner ever have mercy on me?" she growled. "Why should I have mercy on you?"

"We're family, Sira… we're family." Sira cackled with laughter at the comment.

"Family? You are not my family. Yes, we may be related by blood and marriage but it ends there," she snarled. "You will never be my family. Crucio." Another scream of terror and another round of silent sobs from her aunt after she broke the curse. She lay on the floor, panting, tears streaming down her face and mixing with her sweat. Sira knelt down beside her aunt, her blue eyes cold and showing no emotion. Her dark-brown hair fell in her face, shadowing it and making her look even crueler. "You can end this," she hissed softly but her words cut like a dagger. "All you have to do is tell me where my possessions are." Her aunt looked up at her with fear in her eyes.

"What are you going to do after you get them?" her aunt whispered.

"I'll return to my Lord, where I belong." Sira reached out and slowly placed her hand on her aunt's shoulder causing her to wince as if she was being burned. "Like I said before, you can end the pain if you just tell me where my possessions are."

"I don't know," her aunt whispered shakily. Sira stood quickly and snarled.

"You do know!" she barked with the fury returning to her eyes. "Tell me where or I will make you suffer a long and painful death!" Her aunt shrieked as the tears continued to fall from her eyes.

"SILENCE!" Sira bellowed and all went quiet. "Tell me or I will force it out of you! I will break you! You will lose your mind! Now, tell me! WHERE. IS. MY. WAND?" Horror filled her aunt's eyes and she let out a loud sob from her chest.

"It's in Gringotts," her aunt sobbed, "in the f-family vault along w-with your other possessions." A smile returned to Sira's face as her eyes remained cruel.

"Thank you, Auntie," Sira hissed. "I have no more use for you." Her aunt's eyes filled with her terror. "Avada Kedarva!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sira strode into the living room of her Uncle Faulkner's house. She was no longer in her prison uniform but in her aunt's clothes. Lucky for her, they were about the same size except that her aunt was shorter than she was but that wouldn't matter in a while. In her right hand was a bit of her aunt's dark hair. She was going to transform herself into her aunt to get into the family bank account because even though she had access to it, she was still a wanted criminal and, so far, no one knew her aunt was dead except for her.

She walked over to a small coffee table where she had set the Polyjuice Potion that she had found. Her uncle made sure that there was always enough Polyjuice Potion in the house to last a lifetime, it was an obsession of his and Sira was glad it was. She reached for the flask and opened it carefully. As she dropped her aunt's hair into the potion, it changed into a nasty, lilac-purple color. She closed the flask and shook it a little, making sure that the concoction was mixed well.

Slowly, she reopened it and raised it to her lips and took a deep swig. It tasted fowl. She barely managed to swallow it, gagging as it went down her throat. She forced herself to take another sip because she thought that she may need more than an hour as her aunt. She knew it would take longer than that.

The potion started to take effect. Her body shrunk a few inches shorter as her hair turned almost black with a bit of gray in it. Her once flawless face soon showed crow's-feet and other wrinkles and her lips became thinner. She felt old when the transformation was over with.

She stood as she placed her aunt's wand on her hip and then headed out of the front door. Once outside, she disappeared with a crack.

It had been so long since she had been in Diagon Alley. She walked purposefully towards Gringotts, her now hazel eyes gleaming with her desire. She didn't know what she was going to do once she was in but she was ready for anything and especially ready to kill. Soon, she reached the steps and climbed up them gracefully towards the bronze doors. "Good morning, Mrs. Volkov," a man called as he went down the stairs past her.

"Good morning," she said sweetly. She heard the man pause for a few moments but then continue on. A little smile flashed across her face, her disguise was working. She finally reached the bronze doors and opened them. Her mind went to the warning on the door, the warning about stealing from the bank, but she wasn't here to steal. She was just here to retrieve her belongings.

She walked across the marble floor towards a goblin standing behind one of the long counters that stretched across the room's length. The goblin watched her as she approached. "Hello, I need to withdraw something from my bank account," she said flatly. The goblin glared at her for a moment.

"Name?" he stated.

"Volkov," she replied.

"Follow me, please, ma'am." The goblin stepped out from behind the counter and led her over to a mining cart. He opened a door and she stepped inside and sat down quickly. He closed the door and they were off, racing down the rails, plunging deeper and deeper for the Volkov vault was extremely old. Suddenly, the cart plunged down steeply and Sira gripped the cart until her knuckles were white.

Quickly, the cart leveled out and Sira was faced with a wall of water. Her hazel eyes widened as the cart drove into it. The cart continued to roll along but the goblin looked at her and gasped. She was herself again, she was Sira Volkov. She drew her aunt's wand and aimed it at the goblin. "Imperio," she barked. The goblin looked at her, his eyes hazy with the curse. "We are going to the Volkov vault so I can retrieve my possessions. I'm not stealing anything." He nodded his head as the cart picked up speed again.

Soon, they came to a halt and the goblin got out of the cart and she did the same. Her heart was racing with anxiety. There was a dragon, a large, fierce-looking dragon guarding the vault. It strained at its chains, snapping its great jaws at her as the smoke furled out of its nostrils. It watched her walk with the goblin over to the vault with hunger in its eyes.  
The goblin pressed his hand against the door and it dissolved, showing the treasure inside the vault. Mounds of gold, coins and other gems filled the vault along with some old heirlooms. The Volkov's were an old, pureblood family, like the Black's and the Lestrange's, and had acquired a large amount of money over the years but Sira didn't care about it. Money could never solve her problems.

She searched the vault high and low for what seemed like hours. She sighed and sat down in a pile of gallons. She didn't think that she would ever find her stuff but then a sudden realization hit her, she thought she was stupid for not thinking about it earlier. "Accio Wand," she barked. Her wand flew through the air and landed in her hand. A smile flashed across her face.

"Accio Traveling Cloak," she stated proudly and her cloak flew to her. "Accio Shoulder Bag. Accio Knifes." Each of the items came to her as if they were waiting for her to call them, to come for them. She strapped on the knifes, two on her forearms, one on her hip, two on her thighs, and then she put the two that went in her boots in her bag. Joyful, she put on the traveling cloak and pulled the bag onto her shoulder. Everything felt so right, especially having her own wand in her hand. She walked out of the vault and headed over to the cart.

"Come, goblin," she called arrogantly. "I have what I want from the vault." He walked over to the chart as she sat down in it. They were off again, racing back towards the waterfall. They plunged through it and the goblin looked at her with a startled look in his eyes.

"Imperio," she said once more and then she tried to find her flask of Polyjuice Potion. A gasp broke out of her chest as her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't find it. She would have to go out of the bank as the murderer and the escapee from Azkaban, Sira Volkov, and not her normal, pureblooded aunt.

The cart hurled itself back up the rails at a great speed and soon they came to a halt again. They were back and Sira tried to swallow her nerves that set like a lump in her throat, uncomfortable and annoying. She walked purposefully back across the marble floor, heading quickly to the exit. "Hey, miss!" some man bellowed as she quickened her pace. She was so close to the doors. "Miss, stop! I order you to stop!"

She did as she was told, turning to face him as she drew her wand. There was a man there,  
staring at her with his wand raised and in a security uniform. His dark eyes widened as she saw who she was.

"Sira Volkov," he said stunned, his wand still aimed at her heart. She noticed that more guards were coming out of the shadows, coming to take her back to Azkaban. They formed a half-circle around her, backing her into one of the counters, away from the doors. They were all aiming for her heart.

"Stand down, Volkov," the man said loudly. She glared at him and, with a flick of her wrist, sent a spell flying towards him. It hit the ground, exploding on contact and knocking many of the guards off of their feet. She sent the same spell at the other guards, causing the air to fill with dust and smoke. Soon, spells shot through the air, lighting the haze with color.

In the chaos, she sprinted towards the exit. Her feet carried her through the fray where the guards fought each other for they didn't know where she actually was. She finally saw it. Her escape, her exit. She raced towards it, her heart pounding her chest, her breaths deep and labored as her footfalls were silent compared to the sounds of the battle raging behind her.

Then, she was on the ground, not knowing how she got there. Someone was pinning her to the ground. "Gotcha," some man panted as he dragged her to her feet. She was trembling with her fear under the man's grip on her shoulder. She couldn't go back to Azkaban. She just couldn't.

She looked at the man who was now smiling at her, his long, dark hair was pulled back except for a few strands that hung around his face. In his hair was a red. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as his blue-grey eyes examined her. "Scabior," she said her voice full of relief.

"Beautiful, you better be going," he said passionately. She nodded and ran to the door. Suddenly, she turned back to him, the battle still ensuing behind him, the air still thick with smoke and dust.

"Scabior," she called to him, "how can I ever thank you?" Her blue eyes glittered with her gratitude.

"For now, you getting to safety is enough," he said proudly as he glanced over at the fight. She smiled at him and mouthed the words 'I will' and then she raced out of the bronze door. Once outside the bank, she inhaled a breath of fresh, clean air and vanished from the spot.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

An overcast sky hung over the forest, bringing with it the chill of winter. Sira treaded through the forest silently, thinking of her narrow escape from recapture, and thinking of how Scabior helped her. She was thankful that he was there, because if he wasn't, she would most likely be back in Azkaban. I owe him everything for that, she thought. He saved me from prison and the way he looked at me. Her heart fluttered with the thought of it but was quickly replaced with guilt. Sirius used to look at me that way, she told herself with a sigh.

She hadn't thought of Sirius in the longest time. She wondered what he would think of her now, what he would say to her. She sighed as dullness returned to her eyes. A memory returned to her, filling her mind.

Sirius and she were sitting on the sofa in Number 12, Grimmauld Place and he kept looking at her nervously for she had told the Order that she had killed Igor Karkaroff. "Sirius, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said monotonously.

"Sirius, I am not a killer. I didn't do it for enjoyment. I did it because I had to, Sirius," she sighed. "I had to get into the Death Eaters. I'm sorry it bothered you."

"Oh, Sira," he whispered. "It's not just that. It was the anger in your voice, in your eyes. It was frightening. No one has ever seen you that angry."

"I'm sorry, Sirius," she said softly. "I'm sorry for all of it." He pulled her into his chest, trying to comfort her.

"Don't be sorry, Sira," he whispered sweetly to her. "You don't have to be sorry." The memory dissolved away as quickly as it had come to her. She knew what Sirius would think of her now. He would think of her as cruel, as heartless, as evil as the rest of his family, no better than Bellatrix. A loud sob broke out of her chest as she collapsed to the earth in grief. She was no better, she would never be any better.

Suddenly, she heard a rustling which brought her to her senses. She stood quickly, scanning the area for the source, and listening for another sound. There was nothing. Soon, she started to creep forward carefully, still watching the forest.

Then, she felt the cold blade of a knife against her throat and someone holding her, much like she had done to her aunt. The attacker grabbed her by her dark-brown hair and yanked her head back, allowing the knife to have as much of her throat as it wanted. Sira let out her breath in a hiss. "How dare you trespass on the land of the Dark Lord?" a female voice questioned into her ear. "It's punishable by death, a death that I would gladly bring upon you, stranger." The women let out a little, cruel laugh. "It would be so easy, so quick and my Lord would be so pleased with me for bringing your limp, lifeless body to him.

"I'm sure that your Lord would not be pleased if you killed one of your own," Sira replied arrogantly.

"What? You, a Death Eater?" the woman asked with the laugher still in her voice. "Prove it." Sira rolled up her left sleeve and raised her arm to show the woman her Mark, the sign that she was, in fact, a Death Eater. The women let out a little gasp and lowered the blade from her throat.

"Satisfied?" Sira asked quickly and the woman released her. She studied the women with her blue eyes. She looked to be 22. Her straight hair was long and shimmered a light gold color in the overcast light. Her ice-blue eyes examined Sira and her skin was sun-kissed tan. She was beautiful, the body of a super model with a perfect, hour-glass figure. Sira betted that no man could resist her, no man at all.

"I beg your pardon, my friend," the woman said proudly with a little smile, "for threatening you with death."

"You were only doing your duty," Sira replied kindly. "By the way, who are you?"

"My name is Calypso," she said softly, "but you can call me Cal. What's your name?"

"Sira Volkov," she stated proudly as she continued to watch Cal. She couldn't read her body language at all, which worried her. "I joined the Dark Lord last year and now I'm returning to him from my imprisonment in Azkaban."

"You were in Azkaban?" Cal asked in disbelief. "What for?"

"Murder and in for life," Sira stated flatly, "but I tricked the guard by acting like I was mental and that I loved him. They took me to St. Mungo's to 'fix' me and I escaped and now I am here." Cal gave her a sinister smile that darkened her ice-blue eyes.

"That's evil, Sira," she hissed. "I have a feeling that we are going to be friends."

Sira and Cal walked gracefully into the clearing that Sira had first met the Dark Lord in over a year ago. Something within her was satisfied and relieved, she almost felt like she was home. She saw him and all of his darkness across the clearing and she heard Cal inhale deeply beside her. "Volkov," The Dark Lord called as he glided over to them, "it is good to see you."

"My Lord," she said proudly as she bowed low, "I have returned from Azkaban to serve you. I escaped to serve you."

"Yes, little wolf, I heard that you were sentenced to life," he hissed as his red eyes fixed on her, "for the murder of your uncle but that's not the only thing you have done."

"No, my Lord. I have also murdered my aunt and narrowly evaded capture in Gringotts," she stated. He let out a cackle of laughter.

"Spoken like a true Death Eater," he snarled with a smile. "Tell me, how are the other Death Eaters? The ones in Azkaban?"

"They're fine," she said with a little confusion in her voice.

"What do you mean by fine, Volkov?" he questioned.

"They are deteriorating just as I did, both physically and mentally, my Lord," she said loudly. The smile wiped off of the Dark Lord's evil face.

"No, wolf. Are they trying, are they planning to escape? Do they want to return to serve me?" he asked in an agitated hiss as anger flared in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Master," she said as she dropped to her knees and looked up into his snake-like face, her eyes pleading for mercy because of her news, "but no attempt has been made by the others. I was the only one who has even tried to return and, luckily, I was successful. The other, though, seem to be waiting, believing that you will rescue them someday."

"Not even Lucius?" a dark, female voice asked. Sira's eyes locked with the eyes of the speaker. "Not even my dear, brother-in-law?" Bellatrix asked as she crossed the clearing to them.

"No, Bellatrix," she sighed. "None of them have."

"I always knew that he was weak, that he was un-loyal, my Lord," Bellatrix said confidently with a little laughter in her voice.

"Yes, Bella. You are correct," the Dark Lord replied sinisterly. Bellatrix flashed him a little, mischievous smile and Sira felt like retching.

"How did you escape from Azkaban, Sira?" Bellatrix asked in a trying-to-be-friendly voice. "Please tell us everything."

"At first," Sira stated as she rose to her feet again, "I didn't do anything. I was just letting myself rot in my cell and then, very slowly, I decided that I needed to plan my escape. I used Azkaban's newest weakness, that the prison is guarded with wizards, now, that can feel and think, and not Dementors. I acted insane, switching from happy to murderous to depressed. Soon, I got one young guard to feel for me, but it also was because I convince him that I loved him. He made the other guards start to grow concerned about me too. Then, they took me to St. Mungo's to 'fix' me and, after a while of treatment, I escaped in the night by sedating my guard and stealing his wand." The Dark Lord nodded his head in approval while Bellatrix crossed her arms and glared at her furiously.

"So you didn't escape from Azkaban, you just escaped imprisonment," she snarled darkly.

"You may say that, Bellatrix," Sira said arrogantly as the old hatred flared in her eyes, "but does it matter?"

"Yeah, it does matter," Bellatrix hissed with a bit of fury. "I escaped from Azkaban while you escaped from a hospital." Sira fought hard to hold her temper, to not lash out at Bellatrix. Cal looked from Bellatrix to Sira, watching their anger rise. Sira clenched her fists, allowing her fingernails to dig into her palms as she continued to Bellatrix. She took a step forward.

In an instant, all of her anger vanished and her dullness returned. The change caused her to drop her eyes, submitting to Bellatrix. "Yes, Bellatrix," she sighed, "you are right. Your escape is better than mine." Bellatrix smiled a victorious smile and raised her chin up, giving her an arrogant and cocky appearance.

"Calypso," the Dark Lord hissed, "how did you meet Volkov?" Sira knew that he was bored with Sira's and Bellatrix's ever-constant power struggle.

"I was on duty guarding the forest and I saw her and put my dagger to her throat while threatening her with death," Cal explained quickly as she looked the Dark Lord directly in the eye. "I'd never seen her before in my life so I didn't know she was a Death Eater. She showed me her Mark and then I knew." He nodded his head again as Sira gave Bellatrix another quick glare. Then, he turned to Sira again, locking eyes with her. Soon, an evil smile appeared on her face.

"When you were in Azkaban, Volkov, did you make any alliances with, any at all," he snarled softly, "with anyone who is not a Death Eater?"

"Yes, my Lord," she said calmly as she thought she knew who he wanted her to say.

"Who?" he asked in a snake-like hiss. "Perhaps a man that you met in prison and then, he helped you escape recapture in Gringotts?"

"Scabior," she breathed. "His name is Scabior."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The seasons changed from fall to winter, bringing with it cold, dark, and floods of memories of the years past. The snow fell outside the frosty window that Sira gazed out of. The world outside looked so peaceful and so wonderful but, truly, it wasn't. Her blue eyes watched each snowflake fall, as if she didn't, it would be gone forever, as if she would never be able to see it again. Her left palm pressed against the cold pane, numbing her skin with the chill. The room that she was in was warm and cozy and yet she felt so cold. "Sira," Cal said as she entered the room for it was Cal's house, "what do you want to do tonight? It's New Year's Eve and Bellatrix had invited us to go with her to a tavern." Cal and Sira had become good friends over the last few months and Cal had offered Sira to live with her. Sira had accepted for no one knew where Cal lived except for them and a few other people.

"I don't know, Cal," Sira sighed as she turned to her. "I don't feel like drinking tonight."

"You don't have to drink, Sira," Cal said confidently. "You can just go to have fun. Maybe there will be some hot guys there, that'll cheer you up." Sira rolled her eyes; it would be Cal all over the guys, not her. "Please come, Sira. It'll be a good time." Sira let out a sigh and shook her head.

"Okay, Cal. I'll come tonight," she said, sounding defeated, "but what will I wear?" Cal gave her a little smile as her ice-blue eyes sparkled with joy.

"Just wait, you'll love it," Cal said as she rushed out of the room. Sira sighed again and ran her hand through her dark-brown hair. It had taken forever to get all of the knots out that formed while she was in prison and then she had to cut it all short and regrow it to return it to its original luster.

Soon, Cal returned with a dress in her hands. She held it up to show her. It was an elegant, black dress that had a light-blue satin strip around the mid-cut neckline that formed into the shoulder straps and had a flowing ruffle, which was the same color of blue, which hung a few inches lower than the bottom hem of the black fabric. It was cut diagonally so that the left side of the bottom of the dress was higher than the right. Sira couldn't take her eyes off of it.

"Cal, it's beautiful," she said softly. "Thank you." Cal gave her a big smile and a little laugh.

"Go ahead and change, Sira," Cal said kindly. "I already told Bellatrix that we would go with her." Sira let out a gasp with her sudden realization. "What?"

"Bellatrix and I are both wanted so how are we going to be able to go out in public?" Sira asked quickly, glancing down at the floor.

"Don't worry, Sira. We have that all figured out," Cal stated proudly as she walked over to Sira and handed her the dress. She left the room quickly to go get ready, leaving Sira alone.

The hood of her traveling cloak was pulled low over her head, shadowing her face. The night was black and cold; barely any light came from the stars above. The chorus of footsteps filled the alley as they walked down the stone street, echoing off of the shops' walls. Cal lead them, her cloak pulled around her shoulders and her hood thrown back, allowing her light-gold hair to tumble down her back gracefully, through the streets to the tavern. Once there, she went in first, walking straight to the bar as she removed her cloak.

Everyone's attention focused on her for her dress showed off her features. It was blood-red with a black belt accentuating her already small waist and was short. Cal walked towards the tavern-keeper as if she was walking on a catwalk. She started talking to him as she leaned on the bar and, after a minute, she turned away from him with a smile on her face. Bellatrix moved close to Sira, she had her hood on like Sira did. "That's our signal," she whispered and Sira nodded. They pushed open the tavern doors and stepped inside.

The room was warm and filled with people, mostly men. The lights were dull, causing everything in the room to seem grey. Sira kept her hood up as she glanced around the room, looking for familiar faces in the crowd. So far, there was no one she recognized until she saw a head of perfectly messy, blonde hair. A pang of fear shot through her as he turned and looked directly at Bellatrix and her. It was Lark Blackwood, the guard she deceived. "Come on, Sira, we have a room in the back," Cal whispered quickly. Sira looked away and followed Cal across the room.

Just before she walked through the doorway, another man caught her eye. She stopped dead in her tracks as she smiled sweetly at him. He was sitting a chair in the corner, watching the people in the tavern, with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail and his crossed legs up on a table. Her heart fluttered joyously in her chest. "Scabior," she said automatically, not caring who heard her. His blue-grey eyes found her and he smiled at her as he stood. He walked with a masculine swagger over to her.

"'ello, lovely," he said softly, his voice thick with his accent. She smiled at him again and gave him a low laugh.

"Won't you join us? We were just going to have a drink or two and have a merry time," she said as her cheeks reddened. "It'll be fun." He smiled and leaned in close to her.

"Anythin' for you, beautiful," he whispered passionately, his voice seductive. She laughed again and headed into the room. She closed the door after Scabior had entered the room and headed over to a wooden table where Cal and Bellatrix sat. Cal looked at Scabior, her eyes narrowing, and then looked away. Sira pulled off her cloak and set it on the back of a chair. Scabior pulled out a chair for her and she gladly took it with a big smile on her face. Then, he sat down beside her.

"Who's this, Sira?" Bellatrix asked as she studied Scabior.

"This is Scabior," Sira said sweetly. "I met him while I was in Azkaban."

"So this is the one you told the Dark Lord about," Bellatrix stated cruelly as she leaned forward in her chair. Scabior gave Sira a concerned look.

"What?" he breathed.

"She told the Dark Lord that you had saved her from recapture in Gringotts," Bellatrix said proudly as Scabior relaxed a bit. He nodded his head and leaned back in his chair. Sira's heart couldn't stop racing.

"Scabior, I should've introduced you to everyone," Sira said sweetly as her blue eyes twinkled in the dull light. "This is Bellatrix," Bellatrix gave him a small nod, "and this is Calypso." Cal started to glare at Scabior again.

"We've met before, Sira," Cal snarled as she dropped her eyes. Scabior stood from his seat.

"What would everyone like to drink?" he asked quickly, trying to mask the disgust in his voice.

"A butterbeer is fine for me, Scabior," Sira said with a smile.

"Firewhiskey," Bellatrix hissed eagerly. Cal remained quiet.

"What would you like, Cal?" Scabior asked a hint of mocking in his voice. She shot him an angry look.

"I'll get my own, thank you very much," she growled as she stood and walked out of the room. Scabior shook his head and left the room after she did.

"What was that about?" Bellatrix asked. Sira shrugged for she didn't know. All she was thinking about was Scabior, the way he talked to her, the way he smiled at her, and the way he looked at her. She wondered if her longing showed in her eyes.

Soon, Cal returned with a drink in her hand and a smile on her face. "You won't believe the guy I just met," she said proudly as she sank into her chair. "He's handsome and sweet and caring." She let out a sigh and took a sip of her drink. "I think I'm in love."

"You just met the guy, Cal," Bellatrix hissed, she obviously didn't want to wait much longer for her drink.

"I know, Bellatrix, but he's so perfect!" she shrieked happily. "His hair is blonde and gorgeous. His body is muscular and his eyes are emerald green. Oh, and his name is Lark Blackwood." Sira's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. Cal thought she was in love with the man she tricked into loving her, allowing her to escape and leaving him to suffer. "Sira, what's wrong?" Cal asked as she looked at her with concern in her eyes.

"Cal, Lark was the guard that I tricked into loving me," she sighed.

"Oh, but that doesn't really matter, does it?" she asked, sounding hopeful.

"No, it really doesn't," Sira said flatly. "I just wanted you to know." Scabior entered the room with their drinks in his hands. As he set them on the table, Bellatrix looked triumphant and grabbed her firewhiskey. She opened the bottle and poured herself a bit into a glass. Sira reached for her mug of butterbeer. Scabior looked at her passionately, causing her to blush again. Cal shot Scabior another glare.

"I'm going to go talk to Lark," she stated as she stood. "I'll be back." With that, she rushed out of the room. Sira sipped her butterbeer as Scabior's blue-grey eyes continued to study her.

"What?" she asked with a little laugh in her voice.

"You're just so beautiful and stunning, my lovely," he whispered as he gently touched her face, it prickled her skin. She couldn't help the smile that formed on her face.

"Oh, Scabior," she giggled. He leaned in close as if to kiss her but he didn't. He moved her hair out of her face and breathed deeply. A puzzled look came across her face as he moved away from her a bit and he gazed into her eyes.

"You smell decadent, Sira," he whispered seductively. "Lilac and sweet pea?"

"What?" she asked with confusion in her voice. Her rubbed her cheek with his thumb and gave her a little smile.

"Your perfume, lilac and sweet pea, right?" he asked, cocking his head to the side a little.

"Oh, yeah," she sighed sounding disappointed. "Do you like it?"

"I love it, beautiful," Scabior said sweetly. She could see the longing in his eyes but he was trying to hold it back. He leaned in close again.

"Aw, how sweet," Bellatrix shrieked. "Scabior and Sira!" She cackled shrilly, she was obviously drunk already. She took another swig of her firewhiskey as Sira and Scabior looked at her in puzzlement. "I knew you could do better than Sirius, Sira! I knew it! Although, some may say your relationship with him was romantic for some reason like your names together spelled each other's names." Scabior gave her a confused look. "What? You didn't know that Sira loved Sirius Black? She did, she loved my worthless cousin!" She let out another cackle of shrill laughter. "Oh well, he's dead and I'm the reason." She sighed as she stood and left the room, the bottle of firewhiskey in her hand. Scabior gazed at Sira with confusion in his eyes.

"Scabior, the day we met, remember I said that there was a lot you couldn't tell about me," Sira sighed softly. "This is one of those things."

"'ow much more is there to know about you, Sira?"

"A lot," she whispered back. "I'll tell you it all if you want. It'll take a while so get comfortable." He nodded and reached for his drink and gave her some space. She started telling him everything about her life and she meant everything. He listened intently, sometimes taking a sip of his drink or crossing his legs. She kept talking, driven into it by the gaze of his blue-grey eyes upon her. She wanted him to love her, she wanted him to want her, but she didn't know if he did. After a while, she finished and gazed into his face. There wasn't any emotion on it. He set down his drink on the table as she stood and went to the far concern of the room, shrouded in darkness. Her tears fell from her eyes; she didn't know what she was feeling. It was like someone had ripped out her heart. Let go, Sirius' voice rang in her mind.

Scabior came up behind her and, carefully, pulled her close. "Sira," he whispered into her ear, "I don't care 'bout your past, it doesn't change my view of you. You are still my beautiful." Her tears stopped falling from her eyes. She turned as he continued to hold her close to him, just as Sirius had. She gazed into his eyes, hers hopeful and glittering in the dull light.

"Scabior," she whispered. He leaned in close, allowing his longing to consume him, and his mouth met hers. She felt as if something within her was filling the emptiness, that something was making her whole again. She weaved one hand into his hair as the other caressed his face. Too soon, his lips moved away from hers as he gazed into her blue eyes.

"You two-faced, lying, man-whore!" Cal shouted as she staggered through the door, falling over her own feet. Her hair was in disarray and her ice-blue eyes were lived with fury. "You left me, Scabior!" Her voice burned like acid. "You left me! No one has ever left me! I leave them, not the other way around!" Scabior's eyes held a hint of anger.

"Cal, there were many reasons I left you," he said softly. "You need to realize that."

"So you think that leaving a woman is okay?" Cal snarled as she stumbled, almost falling to the floor. She looked directly at both of them.

"I had my reasons," Scabior stated, causing Cal's eyes to grow more livid.

"Sira, watch yourself," said Cal coldly. "He'll just break your heart." With that, she turned and left the room, swaying from side to side as she went. Scabior gazed at Sira with a hint of shame in his eyes. She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder.

"I should've told you 'bout my past with Cal, beautiful," he sighed. She shook her head and let out a light laugh as she walked towards the table. He gave her a baffled look as she lifted her mug of butterbeer to her lips and took a sip. "Are you angry with me?"

"No, Scabior," she said as the dull light twinkled in her eyes, "I'm not angry." She took another, large sip, and then something in her eyes changed. They were filled with longing, with desire. She set down her glass and walked over to Scabior. Hunger was in his eyes.

Carefully, she touched his face, her hands moving down from his hairline to his jaw, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Her eyes studied his face; he was handsome and darkly so. He had an air of power about him, like he longed for it. Sarcastic, and yet a gentleman. There was something about him that made her crave him, she didn't know what. "I'm not angry at all," she whispered seductively as she flashed him a provocative smile. The hunger in his eyes grew brighter.

"What do you want to do now, my lovely?" he asked in a whispered, his longing was in his rich voice. She flashed him another smile.

"I think you know," she breathed darkly as she pulled him out of the room.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The room was warm, dark, and cozy. It was fairly small, only having enough room for a bed, a desk, and a chair. Dark curtains hung shut over the only window in the room, allowing only a sliver of pale, morning light to shine through. The light barely filled the room. In the bed laid Sira and Scabior, wrapped in each other's arms. Sira's head rested on his bare chest as her held her close, as if to never let go. Her mind filled with a wondrous dream.

The tender grass was cool under her feet as she treaded through a wood. The sunlight cast down to the floor below in beams. She went through the wood, lightly touching each tree's bark as she went. Soon, a figure of a man caught her eye as her hearted started to pound in her chest. She sprinted towards the man.

She reached him, jumping into his outstretched arms, wrapping her arms around his neck as her tears poured down her face. She couldn't have been happier, she just couldn't have been. The man chuckled sweetly into her ear as he held her tightly. "Sirius," she panted, almost speechless. "Sirius."

"Sira, oh my Sira," he said sweetly.

"I've missed you, Sirius," she admitted softly as she gazed into his face. "I can't take not being with you."

"I know, Sira. I know," he said, comforting her. She buried her face in his shirt as she used to do. He chuckled again with a little smile on his face and a sparkle in his grey eyes. "I'm just glad that you haven't forgotten who you are."

Fear shot through her, jolting her awake. Scabior stirred as her body trembled in his arms. Her eyes were wide with horror and realization, she had forgotten who she was, but who was she anymore? For all she knew she was Sira Volkov, a former Order member, the woman who loved Sirius, and now a Death Eater. It was all she was certain about. The numbness enveloped her again and she moved closer into Scabior's chest, it was the only comfort she had.

"Good morning, my lovely," he whispered; only half awake. She let out a soft whimper and looked into his blue-grey eyes; they were gazing at her with concern. "What's wrong?" She was on the brink of crying but she didn't want Scabior to see her cry.

"Who am I, Scabior?" she asked her voice soft and monotonous. He gave her a puzzled look as he brushed her hair out of her face, as if he was thinking of how to respond.

"You're a Death Eater that is sweet but sinister, beautiful but dark, and compassionate but deadly. You 'ave a hauntin' grace 'bout you that makes any man you met think 'bout you often. Your past 'as been troubled," he explained gently and reassuringly, "and yet you made it through. You 'ave suffered much but you continue to live your life the way you believe is best." She nodded her head a bit and put her head on his chest, allowing him to run his hand caressingly through her dark-brown curls. She sighed again and listened to his heart beat in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Scabior," she breathed after a long period of silence. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with my problems. I didn't mean to force that upon you." Her blue eyes started to fill with her tears. "I'm not the girl you think I am. I'm weak, I'm unstable. You shouldn't have to deal with this," she sobbed as his arms tightened around her. "You just shouldn't." She couldn't stop them now; the tears flowed freely from her eyes. Her hand gripped his shoulder tightly, as if she was bracing herself.

"Sira," Scabior whispered, "we all 'ave our problems and difficulties. You're not weak, you're strong, and one of the strongest I've ever met." She looked up into his handsome face with a dull hope in her eyes. "You're extraordinary, beautiful, and don't let yourself tell you otherwise. You've faced much more than most men will in their whole lifetime." He touched her face gently, his touch prickled her skin. "Life is an endless struggle and all we can do is keep going."

She placed her hands on his chest as he shifted so he was lying on his back. Her hair fell like a fine curtain around their faces. She gazed passionately into his eyes as he placed his hand on her jaw, sliding it down her neck to her breast and down her side, causing her skin to come alive with sensations. Her tears had stopped falling as he cupped her face passionately with his other hand. His lips brushed against hers just before they met, sending a shiver down her spine. Her skin still prickled as he continued to run his hands down her sides. She never wanted this to end. She finally felt like herself again when she kissed him.

Too soon, as she believed, he pulled his mouth away, letting her emptiness return to her. She wanted more, she couldn't doubt it. "Scabior," she said softly, "do you love me?" Something stirred within her, telling her that she had asked the wrong question but she wanted to know, she just had to know. His eyes flickered with uncertainty for a second and then were replaced by his longing. Her heart sank, she was certain she knew the answer.

"Yes, I love you, beautiful," he said smoothly. Her heart pounded with her uncertainty. Was he lying to her? She dropped her eyes. "I do love you," he whispered, obviously noticing her worry. "You make me feel a way that I 'ave never felt before. I feel like I need your smile, I need your laugh, but mostly, I need that look that you give me, the look that says you love me to even if you don't realize it. I need you, Sira." Her eyes met his, hers were filled with relief.

"Oh, Scabior," she breathed, "I love you." Her heart fluttered in her chest, rising, making her joyous. Maybe, just maybe, she was finally letting go as Sirius had told her to do.

Sira sat in the kitchen of Cal's house at the dark-wood table. She was gazing intently at the cup of tea in her hands, as if it was going to come to life. She thought of her time with Scabior the night before. She had returned to her numb self after she left his room in the tavern, which she wasn't happy about. She thought that it would be best if she left, not because they were angry with each other, but because she felt like she had stayed too long. She didn't want to leave, she never wanted to leave. "How was your night, Sira?" Cal asked as she entered the room, breaking her thoughts. Cal's ice-blue eyes watched her with fascination and curiosity.

"Good. Great, actually," Sira said sweetly as she flashed Cal a little smile and started to blush about the night before. Cal smiled back with a hint of coldness.

"Oh, so you and Scabior hit it off well," Cal said arrogantly. Her tone still held some aggression towards Scabior and seemed a bit mocking at the same time.

"I think so," she said quickly. "We are meeting again tonight for a little walk through the forest." Cal's eyes burned with an old rage but yet were still gleeful. She obviously hadn't recovered from him leaving her. "How was your evening last night?" The rage rapidly drained from her eyes.

"It was wonderful," she said quickly, her voice holding the same emotion as her eyes. "Lark is so sweet and so caring and he is such a gentleman. He was so gentle with me like he was afraid he was going to break me, like I was a porcelain doll." She sighed as she sank into a chair. "I just love the way he looks at me, there is so much passion in his emerald eyes, and the way he holds me. It sends shivers down my spine." She paused, as if lost in a beautiful thought and continued on again.

"He still feels awful about allowing you to use him for your escape, Sira," she said with a serious tone. "He believes that it was his fault and he is broken because of it. He thought that he would never love a woman again after what had happened. He felt like scum. He even quit his job in Azkaban." Sira dropped her eyes, she felt terrible. She didn't mean to hurt Lark, she didn't mean to make him lose his job, and she certainly didn't mean to break him.

"I didn't intentionally hurt him, Cal," she admitted softly as her gaze returned to Cal. "I'm sorry that I did. I'm truly sorry. He was just so willing to help me that I had to use him to my advantage. I couldn't rot away in Azkaban, Cal, I just couldn't." She sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. "I feel like an ass because of what I did to him."

"Sira, I'm not mad at you," Cal said kindly. "You had to do it and, if you didn't, you wouldn't be here and I wouldn't have met Lark. Last night, he was so happy when he was with me; he even told me he loved me."

"Did you tell him you loved him? Did you tell him how you felt about him?" she asked, still ridden with guilt.

"Yes, I did," Cal replied sweetly with a kind smile on her face. "It was love at first sight." Suddenly, a memory flashed in Sira's mind, sending a pang of emotion through her heart. She was sitting on the sofa of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, gazing at a man that stood at the bottom of the staircase. His face showed his strain and his struggle during his life but was all in all, handsome. All of the anger towards the house-elf, Kreacher, vanished in an instant when he gave her a sweet smile. She was blushing at him as she smiled back. She saw the look in his eyes and heard the sound in his voice; it had always made her heart flutter. He crossed the room and sat beside her, the look of longing still in his eyes.

"Sira, what's wrong?" Cal asked, tearing her away from the sweet memory. Sira grew somber again, dull, depressed. She looked down at her hands, trying to ignore Cal's gaze that weighed heavily upon her. "Sira?" There was a long, drawn out silence.

"Oh, Cal, I can't take it anymore. I can't take this anymore," Sira sighed as she propped her elbows up on the table and put her hands into her dark-brown hair. The tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to streak down her face.

"Take what?" Cal asked softly with concern in her ice-blue eyes.

"The suffering, the pain," she panted sorely. "I just want it to end, Cal" Her tears rolled down her face as she shook her head a bit.

"Sira, are you upset that Lark and I are together?" she asked with the concern showing in her voice.

"No, it's more like what you have with him, Cal," she sobbed. "I used to have it. His name was Sirius Black and we were deeply in love. It was love at first sight for us, Cal, and it was true, it was pure. We loved each other, not for our blood-status or our looks, but for who we were." She paused and tried to catch her breath, it wouldn't come. "He asked me to marry him, Cal, but he left me."

"Whoa, he left you?" Cal asked in disbelief. "He loved you and left you?"

"Not like that, Cal. It's not like that," Sira breathed stiffly. Cal gave her a questioning look. "We were in a battle, the one in the Department of Mysteries and he-." She couldn't say it, she would never say it. She put her face in her hands.

"He passed," Cal whispered. "He left you that way, still loving you and still caring for you." She nodded her head as her pain consumed her heart.

"We thought it would last forever. We thought that we would be together forever," Sira sobbed as her tears soaked her hands. Cal stood and went to Sira, placing her hand on Sira's shoulder.

"Sira, I'm sorry," Cal panted as she hugged Sira. "It sounds like you had something wonderful with Sirius. You had a life planned out, a life that you would share together but, now, you have nothing. You have nothing to comfort you, you have nothing to confide with, and you have nothing to support you. Just know, Sira that I am here for you. I will help you through this." The tears still flowed from her eyes; Cal's words had helped her, not much, but some.

"Thank you, Cal," Sira whispered flatly as she dropped her hands from her face. "You're such a good friend."

The moon cast a silvery light among the tress of the forest below. The snow blanketed the ground, making everything sparkle in the light and chilling the air. All was quiet except for the soft treading of two people through the woods. They were both dressed warmly and the man had his arm around the girl's shoulders. She looked at him with a calm passion but she also had a look of sadness about her. She felt guilt with him and yet she didn't, she didn't know how to feel right now. He pulled her closer to him. "Sira, isn't the wood just beautiful? Except it's not as beautiful as you," the man whispered to her in a low voice with desire in his eyes.

"Oh, Scabior," Sira said with a fake laugh and sadness in her eyes.

"It's true, you know," he stated proudly as they stopped in a small break in the trees. Sira looked up into the clear, winter night. She wondered where Sirius was as she gazed at the stars and if he was looking down upon her. The thought made tears well up in her eyes. "Is something wrong, beautiful?" She looked into his face; he was giving her a baffled look that was full of concern. It was even in his blue-grey eyes.

"How do I know that I'm doing the right thing, Scabior?" she whispered as her gaze returned to the stars. He gazed up at the sky too with a sigh.

"It'll feel like it's right, lovely," he explained softly. "There's no other way to say it, you'll just know when somethin' you're doin' is right." A spark of realization flashed in his eyes. "Are you questionin' what we 'ave, Sira?" She sighed and looked into his eyes again.

"I just don't know, Scabior. I just don't know if I am doing the right thing by being with you. I guess I am," she breathed.

"Do you want me to prove that my love is true? Are you upset because of what 'appened to Cal and me?" he asked quickly, a bit of agitation entering his eyes. "Beautiful, what do you want me to do?" She looked at him with horror in her eyes.

"I guess I want to know if you are truly right for me, Scabior," she sighed as she walked towards the nearest tree, her back towards him. She braced her hands against it as her body started to tremble with stress. "I feel sometimes that you are and then I don't. It's never the same."

"So you want to get rid of everythin' we 'ave?" Scabior asked in a snarl. "You want to throw us away?" She turned and looked at him; everything about him said that he was furious.

"Scabior, we had just started our relationship yesterday," she whined as her blue eyes held her fear and her concern. He glared at her.

"Does it matter? I loved you since I first met you in Azkaban," he snarled softly. "I've never felt the way I did 'bout you with anyone else before and now you question it. You just can't see what we 'ave. Yes, it's new and young but it's true, Sira. It's true."

"Scabior," she breathed with horror in her eyes.

"Maybe you're just the problem, Sira," he growled sinisterly, he was angry that she was even feeling the way she did. "You're just a half-blood." She froze, her mouth open, as the tears streaked down her face. The cold stung her cheeks but his words were a slap in the face.

"That didn't matter before, Scabior," she whispered remorsefully. "Maybe my feeling was right. Maybe you are wrong for me." She gave him one, last fleeting look as she walked away from him, back the way they had come. His eyes grew wide with his realization of what he had said, of what he had done.

"Sira," he called as he jogged after her, desperate. She heard him coming and picked up her pace, she didn't want to speak to him. "Sira, wait." He was so close now. She dashed through the trees, him following close behind. The wind stung her face like icy needles. Her tears continued to fall. Something had caught her wrist and dragged her to an abrupt halt. "Sira, listen to me."

"No," she panted as he grabbed her other wrist, causing her to struggle against his grip. It wouldn't break her free, she was too weak.

"Sira," he breathed as she stopped her fruitless struggle. "Sira, I didn't mean what I said." His eyes held his fear and his seriousness; he truly meant what he was saying to her now. "I love you. You are the best thing that 'as 'appened to me. I don't want to lose you, Sira. I don't want you to go." She moved into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. A feeling flared in her chest. It was love, true and pure. She loved him; she never wanted him to go.

"Scabior, I don't want to go," she breathed. "I never want to go. I love you, Scabior. I truly love you."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The weeks passed a joyous blur to Sira. Scabior and she spent most of the time together, happy and passionate, and deeply in love. She was still living in Cal's house and Cal was usually gone much of the time, she was always doing something with Lark. Sira had been doing some thinking and finally realized that she hadn't seen Narcissa since last year. Sira wondered how she was doing. Narcissa was still her friend, even though she had forgotten about her. Soon, she would pay her a visit.

The air was warm for the season, but still held a bit of a chill. Sira walked up to the doorstep of the Malfoy Manor, her cloak flowing behind her as she did. She reached the door and knocked loudly three times. She kept her hood up just in case there was anyone around watching her. The door opened and Narcissa stood in the doorway, her white-blond hair falling down her back. Sira gave her a little smile from the depths of her hood. "Hello, Narcissa," she said softly. Narcissa gave her a puzzled look and Sira pulled her hood back just enough to show her face.

"Oh, Sira," Narcissa breathed. "Please come in." She ushered Sira into the house quickly. As she closed the door, Sira dropped the hood of her cloak allowing her dark-brown curls to tumble down her back. She flashed Narcissa another smile, she was truly glad to see her. Only, Narcissa didn't return the smile, instead, she looked stressed and worried. "So, how have you been, Sira?" Narcissa asked as they entered the living room and Sira sat in her normal chair.

"Do you want to know recently or since the last time I saw you?" she asked back lightly. Narcissa sank down into a chair across from her.

"Both the Dark Lord and Bellatrix have told me what has happened to you since I last saw you, Sira," she said flatly. Sira gave her a look of puzzlement.

"Oh, like how I'm a traitor and how now I'm truly a Death Eater. How I killed my uncle, got myself landed in Azkaban, and escaped. How I also killed my aunt, broke into Gringotts to get my wand, and then fought the guards. Is that what you mean?" Sira stated proudly, she didn't know why she was so happy all of the sudden.

"Yes, they told me all of that," she said softly as she became distant. All was quiet for a little bit. "When you were in Azkaban, Sira, did you ever get to see Lucius?" She looked at Sira with fear and deep concern. She was struggling without him and Sira hoped that he had finally realized who he really loved.

"Yes, I was able to talk to him," she said softly, trying to reassure Narcissa, but her eyes only grew more concerned.

"How was he?" Narcissa asked, panting a little. What was Sira going to say? That she fought him and then kissed him? That he couldn't get Sira off of his mind? That he wasn't even thinking of escaping?

"He was deteriorating like the rest of us, Narcissa," she said truthfully, "but he seemed to be doing better than the others." She gave Sira a baffled look.

"You seem to be fine, Sira," Narcissa stated. Sira couldn't help the loud, manic laugh that broke out of her chest. Narcissa looked shocked.

"Me? Fine?" she laughed. "I escaped Azkaban by acting insane, Narcissa, and it has affected me a bit." Narcissa mouthed the words 'I can see that' and suddenly grew somber again. "What has been happening with you?" Sira asked as she leaned back in her chair. Narcissa froze and looked at her fearfully.

"I-I can't tell you, Sira. The Dark Lord ordered me not to speak of it," Narcissa panted as she fought back her tears. There was another long pause.

"Can I try to figure out what it is by asking you questions?" she asked curiously and child-like. Narcissa nodded slowly. "Is it a plan that the Dark Lord made to kill someone?" she asked, knowing that most of Voldemort's plans involved murder. Narcissa nodded. Who does the Dark Lord dislike? She asked herself. Harry, obviously, anyone in the Order, the Ministry, muggle-borns, blood traitors and Dumbledore, but who does he want dead? Mostly Harry and Dumbledore.

"Does the Dark Lord want to kill Albus Dumbledore?" she asked finally and Narcissa answered with a nod as the tears streaked down her face. Why would Narcissa cry about Dumbledore dying? She questioned. Maybe it's who's going to kill him. It would have to be someone that Narcissa trusts and cares about and who is also in Hogwarts. Suddenly, she realized who was going to kill Dumbledore.

"Oh, Narcissa, I'm so sorry," she sighed. "The Dark Lord wants Draco, your only son, to kill Dumbledore." Narcissa nodded as a sob broke out of her chest. There was a knock at the door. They both jumped at the sound. Narcissa stood, drying her eyes, and answered the door. Sira could hear the new voice, the familiar, drawing tone she had heard hundreds of times before. Narcissa and the newcomer walked into the living room.

"Hello, Severus," Sira hissed as her eyes glared at him. He scowled at her as Narcissa sat back down in her chair.

"Sira," he snarled back, his dark eyes showing no emotion. "The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you, so if you would come with me, I will take you to him." Sira stood from her chair, there was no arguing with him if the Dark Lord wanted to see her. They headed out of the living room and out of the house at a break-neck pace. Once outside the house, Snape offered her his arm and she took it, hesitantly. With that, they were gone.

Sira's first thought when they arrived at the main gate of Hogwarts was that Snape was a filthy, lying pig. Her second thought was to run but he had prevented that. Now, she was being dragged through the grounds to the entrance of Hogwarts. She was furious, unable to move, and was trying to scream but Snape had silenced her with another charm. Rage, hatred, and guilt welled up within her. She couldn't believe that she was so stupid that she allowed Snape to take her here.

He pulled her through the entrance, through the halls and corridors, and down to his office near the dungeons. Once again, everything looked the same as the time before, except this time, there was someone else in his office. Snape shoved her down into a chair and remove the charms from her. "Hello, Draco," she hissed maliciously as Draco put his wand forcefully under her jaw. His grey eyes gleamed with arrogance. She smiled a cruel smile and laughed.

"Quiet," Snape snapped as Draco jabbed his wand into her jaw furiously. She fell silent, glaring at Snape. "Remove your weapons." She obeyed, handing all of them over.

"Why am I here?" she barked, soft but staccato. Her saying this make Draco smirk, she shot him a dirty look as she balled her fists. She let out a snarl when they didn't respond. "Why am I here?"

"We need something from you, Volkov," Snape snarled loudly. Draco shot him an anxious look and then returned his attention to Sira. She gazed at Snape with anger but her eyes asked 'what?' "We need your memories, all of your memories."

"Why?" she snapped quickly Snape threw her wand back to her, it landed in her lap.

"They will help us," Snape stated flatly. "You know what to do." She picked up her wand with her right hand and placed the tip on her temple. She paused, she couldn't do it. Something stopped her.

"Severus, will I still have the memories?" she asked in barely a whisper.

"Yes," he hissed. She nodded and cleared her mind. One by one, she plucked the memories from her mind, every single one of them. She put them in a large, crystal container that Snape had set beside her, watching as it filled with the silvery liquid. Once she had finished, she went through her mind again, checking that she hadn't lost any. She hadn't and she let out a sigh of relief. Snape put a cork on the container and rushed out of the room with it as Draco snatched her wand away from her. As he did, Sira noticed something, a mark on his left arm.

"Ah, Draco," she snarled with a smile on her face, "so you're a Death Eater now. Good for you." He gazed at her, his grey eyes malicious.

"What do you know? You're just a half-blood and a traitor!" he barked sharply. "Father always told me to never trust scum like you."

"Your father trusted me, Draco," she said confidently as Draco gave her a confused look. She smiled at him cruelly.

"There's a lot that you don't know about my father," he retorted angrily.

"Oh, Draco," she hissed with a huge smile, "I know more about your father than you would ever want to know." His eyes filled with horror as he lowered his wand a bit from her throat and his body went rigid.

"W-what do you mean?" he asked fearfully as he took a step back from her. Her smile grew more sinister.

"You know what I mean."

"Volkov," Snape barked as he reentered his office. Both Draco and Sira looked at him. "Come with me." She stood from the chair as he turned and headed out of the office. They walked briskly back through the hall to the entrance of Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore? She thought. Why is he taking me to Dumbledore? Snape hissed something to the gargoyle and shoved Sira up the stairs. He knocked on the door to the office loudly.

"Come in," a voice called from within and Snape pushed open the door and ushered Sira in ahead of him. Sira's eyes locked with Dumbledore's bright-blue ones. A snarl broke from her chest as Snape pushed her down into a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Harry was there, gazing at her with a look of deep sorrow, a look that meant to say that he was sorry.

"Now, Sira, you probably are wondering why you're here," Dumbledore said as he looked at Harry. "We, the Order of the Phoenix, were interested in why you switched over to the Death Eaters and I was the most curious of all. To do so, we needed your memories and, to get them, we needed you."

"So why is he here?" she asked in a snarl as she looked at Harry.

"I thought that he would be interested in your past," Dumbledore stated as his eyes examined her, she could see the regret on his face. "Anyway, you are a curious case, especially for how many headlines you have made lately." His hand reached for a stack of Daily Prophets. "Let's see: A Wizard Murdered, A Witch Convicted, and Sira Volkov Sentenced to Life in Azkaban, and Maximum Security Prisoner Escapes, and Volkov Suspected for Mysterious Murder, and Volkov Escapes Capture at Gringotts. Like I said before, we wanted to know why you did this and now both Harry and I know.

"We took your memories and placed them in the Pensieve, then we looked through them to find the reason for all of this and, trust me, we found plenty," Dumbledore said. "Severus, if you could step out." He obviously remembered that Snape made her uncomfortable. Snape did as he was told and Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Harry, do you want to say something?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said loudly and looked at Sira with remorse. "Sira, I understand your early life, mine was similar to yours but yours was still much worse. As for your life at Hogwarts, that seemed normal though you seemed too eager to please your teachers. Also, you auror training seemed fairly normal.

"Then, you joined the Order and everything seemed to change. You seemed to become a different person and then you changed again after that day in the Department of Mysteries," he stated softly. Then, there was a long silence as Harry seemed to be lost in a thought. "You did really love him, didn't you?" he asked quietly. The look in his green eyes told her who he was talking about. All the anger drained from her body, she couldn't feel anything.

"Yes, Harry," she breathed as her eyes filled with tears. "Yes, I did."

"That's why you left the Order, isn't it?" he asked. "You didn't think you belonged there without him." She gazed at Harry, her tears streaming down her face. She didn't want to say that was her reason, her only reason but he seemed to understand.

"Harry, all I want to do is die," she panted. "It's the only thing I want anymore. I can never live as I once did, so why continue?" She let out a sigh out of her chest. "I was so close, Harry. I was so close." He nodded and looked to Dumbledore.

"Sira, I thought I knew your reasoning when you were being tried for your crimes in the Wizengamot and I believed wrong," Dumbledore admitted sadly. "I thought that you were angry with the Order, thinking that we were responsible for Sirius' death. The reality is that you left out of love. You wanted to be with him and, to do so; you had to have death brought upon you. I'm sorry that you've had to go through all of this." She gave him a questioning look. He wasn't going to scold her for leaving the Order? He wasn't going to be angry with her? He actually felt sorry for her?

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too," she breathed. They both gave her a baffled look. "I'm sorry that the Dark Lord was both of you dead."

"Severus!" Dumbledore barked as Harry looked at her in horror. Snape entered the room as she stood. The look in Harry's eyes was the last thing she saw before her world went black.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Sira's eyes burst open to find herself still in Dumbledore's office, bound magically to a chair. She looked at everyone in the room, trying to read their faces, but none of them held any emotion. The only exception was Harry's eyes, which looked at her with somber understanding. He was the only one who had any idea how she truly felt. She looked away from him and struggled at her invisible restraints. They wouldn't budge, so she gave up. You're still fighting, a voice whispered in her mind causing her to hang her head low, allowing her hair to fall over her face. All was quiet in the office as she felt their gazes press onto her. "Professor," Harry said, finally breaking the silence, "may I talk with Sira? Maybe I could help her a little." Her focus returned to him, she was baffled.

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. He and Snape left the room, the door thudding shut behind them. Harry just looked at her for the longest time, he wanted to ask something but he didn't want to say it.

"Hopefully, you don't want to talk about why I did what I did, Harry," Sira growled slowly, "because there is nothing you can do to change it." He shook his head and ruffled his black hair, making it even messier, as he seemed to be lost in a thought.

"I wanted to talk to you about," Harry breathed, refusing to make eye contact with her, "about Sirius." All the emotion drained from her body, she was no longer angry, she could no longer be angry.

"Oh," she whispered as she looked away from him. They both knew that they weren't comfortable talking about it, but they needed to.

"We don't have to talk about him if you don't want to," Harry stated quickly. "I just wanted to ask you about him because you both loved each other very much."

"No, it's okay, Harry," she breathed, struggling for every breath. "Ask whatever you want." She really didn't want to talk about Sirius but she had always wanted to help Harry, he didn't need to suffer as much as she did.

"Did he ever talk about me?" he asked, his eyes finally looking into hers. This was painful, for both of them, but yet they still forced themselves to this.

"Yes, he talked about you frequently," she said softly as the tears started to fill her eyes. "He was always so proud of you, Harry, and he always hoped that, one day, when he was a free man, you, I, and he would live together as a family. He was a good man, Harry, but he suffered more than he had to." She thought of how she had hurt Sirius, of how she had caused him so much pain, and she had suffered with him, but now, she was left to suffer alone.

"He asked you to marry him, didn't he?" Harry questioned monotonously.

"Yes," she hissed in sadness, "he did." Another broken promise, she told herself. We promised each other the moon and look how it turned out. Anger flickered within her, not towards Sirius, but towards herself.

"Do you think about him a lot?" Harry asked as he sat down in the chair he was sitting in before she threatened him with death. She swore that he was shaking, just a little.

"Why? Do you?" Sira asked back as guilt welled inside her.

"No, not much," he admitted. "I guess I try to push him out of my life. I don't want to accept what had happened and, for a while, I believed that the whole thing was my fault." He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his face.

"I don't think about him much either, Harry," she said as the tears started to streak down her face. "I'm already plagued by my memories and it pains me to think about him. I think of what we had, of what we wanted, and of how we would never have what we were hoping for." She let out a sigh. "I guess I run from it because it's easier than accepting what happened. I hope you understand, Harry."

"Yeah, I do," he sighed and then gave her a small smile. It was the kind of smile that Sirius had used to diffuse the tension in the room so many times. "Though, I don't know who had suffered worse, you or me." She couldn't help but smile back at Harry; he said something that Sirius would've said.

"I'm pretty sure it's me, Harry," she said flatly as she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes to find that she was still bound. "We had something special," she sighed, "something that you only experience once in a lifetime. Now, it's gone and all I try to do is get it back."

"So that's why you left the Order for the Death Eaters? To get back what you had?" Harry asked as his green eyes looked at her questioningly. She paused, was this why she loved Lucius? Why she loved Scabior? Was she trying to convince herself that she could love another as she loved Sirius? She was confident that this was true.

"Yeah, Harry," she said with a new hope as her tears stopped falling. "I think that's why." Her body went totally numb, except she did feel a little better. It wasn't much of a feeling but she felt more relaxed now. "I hope what I have said has helped."

"It has, Sira," Harry said politely as he stood. "Thank you." He walked over to the door of the office and opened it, allowing Snape and Dumbledore to come back in. Snape glared at her and she glared back, still not feeling much. Dumbledore sat down in the chair behind his desk and examined her.

"How was your talk, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as his attention shifted to him.

"It was good, sir," Harry said quickly. "It cleared up a few things for me." Harry looked at Sira and gave her a little smile. She nodded and returned it, thinking of how happy Sirius would be if he could see them now, helping each other through this difficult situation.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said proudly. "Severus, please un-bind Sira and return her possessions to her. She is free to go." What? She asked herself. I'm not being sent to Azkaban? They're letting me go?

Snape lifted the charm on her and threw her weapons into her lap, scowling as he did so. Once free of restraints, Sira stood and strapped on her knifes. She looked around the room at their faces, she was thankful that they were letting her go. She headed towards the exit when she paused. She turned and looked directly into Harry's face. A sweet smile spread across her lips. He gave her a puzzled look.

"I may be a Death Eater, Harry, and I may have done some awful things," she said sweetly, "but I still believe in you and you have my protection." He nodded and she turned on her heel and walked out the door.

She shut the front door of Cal's house softly and headed down the hall, her footsteps echoing off the floor. The lights were on so someone must have been home. "Cal," she called, "I'm back. You won't believe-." She froze in the doorway to Cal's living room, stiff with shock. On the sofa, Cal and Lark were sitting together, her hands all over his head and neck and their mouths pressed tightly together, as if they were never parting. His hands ran down Cal's sides, fondling her. Sira's eyes grew wide with her horror. Cal let out a strange noise that sounded like a gasp and a purr together.

"Cal?" Sira said loudly, still not getting her attention. Lark's mouth made its way to her neck, causing her to moan with her pleasure as Cal's hand went into his crotch. "CAL!" Sira barked fearfully, she had seen too much… way too much.

Cal's ice-blue eyes went to Sira in an instant. "Oh, shit," she muttered under her breath as she went stiff. Lark stopped what he was doing and gazed at her as she moved away from him. He finally turned his head and looked directly at Sira, his eyes examining her. His emerald eyes held his disbelief, Sira couldn't breathe. They stared at each other for the longest time.

"Is that you, Sira?" he asked, his voice holding the same emotion as his eyes. She could see Cal stiffen more as he spoke.

"I'm not Sira," Sira lied smoothly after a brief second. "I'm Natalie." His eyes continued to examine her, unconvinced. Finally, Cal seemed to relax a bit.

"Yeah, Lark," Cal said sweetly as she returned to normal. "I told you about Natalie. You know my roommate." He nodded his head and smiled at Cal.

"Yes, I remember, Cal," he stated. He looked directly at Sira again. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Natalie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too," she replied kindly with a gently smile. Cal stood and crossed the room to Sira. She placed her hand on her shoulder and moved close to her ear.

"Scabior came by earlier. He was looking for you," Cal whispered quickly. Sira gave her a baffled look.

"Where is he? Did he tell you anything?" she breathed back. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know, Sira," Cal sighed, barely audible. "He said something about the Dark Lord." Sira let out a gasp as her eyes filled with terror. She needed to find him. She rushed past Cal, who looked at her one final time before returning to Lark, and loped to the front door.

Just as she reached for the door knob, there was a knock on the door. She opened it quickly and her whole body relaxed when she saw who was standing on the doorstep. "'ello, beautiful," Scabior said seductively as she flashed him a smile. She couldn't have been happier to see him.

"Hey," she said sweetly, "Cal told me that you wanted to see me." She felt her cheeks redden as he gazed at her longingly. His hand cradled her face with the lightest touch, causing her kind smile to widen.

"Yes, I did, my lovely," he said with a hint of a purr in his voice. Her heart started to pound in her chest. "I wanted you to come with me as I go to meet the Dark Lord. I wish to join 'is ranks, my sweet. I wish to serve 'im." She could see the determination in his eyes. He wanted power, he longed for power as he would long for her. Her smile wiped off her face.

She didn't think that he should, she didn't want him to but she knew she wouldn't be able to stop him. There was no amount of begging or pleading that could make him change his mind. Sira knew that the only thing she could do was to go with him as he tried to receive a position in the circle of the Dark Lord. "I'll go with you, Scabior," she said softly, "if this is truly what you want."

"I knew you would, beautiful," he said passionately as he pulled her into his chest as a fluttering feeling filled her stomach. With a sharp crack, they vanished from the doorstep.

Sira was surprise when she found that they were going to the Malfoy Manor instead of the clearing in the dark forest where she usually met the Dark Lord. Twice in one day, she thought to herself about returning here. Must be a record. Scabior's arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, his warmth radiating off of his body. An odd observation popped into her mind. Scabior was very protective of her especially when she was around other people. Does he just love me that much that he want to protect me or does he not trust me? She questioned herself. She wanted to ask him but she didn't dare to in fear that he didn't believe he was being protective of her.

They reached the front door of the Malfoy Mano when Scabior moved away from her, taking his arm off from around her shoulders. Determination still gleamed in his blue-grey eyes. She couldn't help thinking how sexy he was when he was so focused and driven. It sent a shudder through her.

He knocked on the door three times loudly and stepped back beside her. His eyes glanced at her, filled with confidence, as he flashed her a smile. She had a bad feeling about this. The door opened with a little creak coming from the hinges. Narcissa stood there in the entryway, looking distraught. "Oh, hello, Sira," she said softly. There was something wrong, something extremely wrong.

"Hello, Narcissa," Sira said politely. "I don't know if you two have met, but this is Scabior."

"Pleased to meet you, Narcissa," Scabior said charmingly. Narcissa ushered them into the house quickly and shut the door even quicker. Sira was just about to ask her what the problem was when a chill went through the air, causing her to shiver.

"Volkov, my little wolf," an icy voice hissed. "It's good to see you." He was standing in the hall, his red eyes glued on her and a heartless smile on his evil face. His eyes glance away from her to Scabior and back. "Who is this, Volkov?"

"This, my Lord, is Scabior," she said with a bit too much happiness in her voice.

"Ah, the man who helped you escape recapture," the Dark Lord snarled with certainty. "Volkov speaks highly of you, Scabior," he said as he turned to face him, "but I must ask one thing. Why are you here?"

"I want to join your ranks," Scabior said, seeming to lose a bit of his confidence. "I believe that I'd be a great asset to you, my Lord, for I'm willin' to serve you." The Dark Lord didn't seem to be impressed.

"Come, Scabior," he said in a hiss. "We can speak more about this in the living room." He glided into the next room with Scabior following close behind, seeming nervous as he looked back at her. She gave him a little smile of reassurance.

Sira's heart skipped a beat. Something had grabbed her by the wrist and made her jump. She looked around until she found Narcissa standing beside her. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I didn't mean to scare you but I need to talk to you."

"Sure, Narcissa," she said softly as Narcissa started to lead her to the staircase. Narcissa moved with a sense of urgency with Sira following behind her, trying hard to keep up. Narcissa opened a door to a study and ushered her inside and closed the door quickly behind them. She pulled out her wand and muttered a spell before leaning back against the door. She was close to tears.

"Oh, Sira," she sobbed. "I can't do this anymore. I can't take this anymore." Sira gazed at her with a question in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Narcissa?" she asked. "What's happened?" A loud sob broke out of Narcissa's chest as she started to tremble.

"It's-it's the D-dark Lord, Sira," she whined. "H-he wants the house as f-further punishment for L-Lucius' disloyalty and f-failure." Narcissa's breathes started to become desperate pants. "I-isn't life in Azkaban e-enough? D-does he have to make me and Draco s-suffer too?" The tears fell freely from her eyes as she gazed at Sira, looking for guidance.

"Oh, Narcissa," she said gently. "I'm sorry that all of this happened. You don't deserve to be punished for something that you didn't do and Lucius doesn't even know what's happening to his family and Draco shouldn't be doing what he's doing."

"He's going to be killed if he doesn't, Sira!" Narcissa shrieked. Sira let out a sigh. She knew she couldn't do anything to help her.

"I know but he shouldn't have been ordered to do it in the first place," she said quietly. "Narcissa, I can't help you and I'm sorry but there is one thing I can do. I can say that you need to think about your life and about this situation and ask yourself if all of this is really worth it. That's all you can really do now." Narcissa seemed to relax with her words for her trembling stopped. She stopped leaning against the door and opened it without a word and exited the room.

Sira ran her hand through her hair as she walked out of the room. Once she was back downstairs, Scabior and the Dark Lord were leaving the living room. Scabior had a smile on his face and his confidence had returned; she was extremely glad to see this. The Dark Lord left them and Scabior went to her, his hands cupping her face gently. A smile spread across her face. "'e is allowin' me to prove my worth to 'im, lovely," he said excitedly, "and 'e may make me a Death Eater."

"What do you have to do?" she asked as her blue eyes looked at him with concern.

"You'll see 'cause 'e wants you to go with me."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The air held a threatening chill, causing Sira to become anxious. At first, she wasn't comfortable with the order she had received but now, she was eager to go. The mission: to destroy as much as possible and cause as much havoc as they could. She looked to her left, her blue eyes piercing through the shadow casted by her hood. Cal and Bellatrix waltzed through the darkness, sharing the same eagerness as she. Scabior was to her right, still brimming with confidence, walking his swaggering walk. The Dark Lord had wanted them to wait a while after they received the order before they fulfilled it. That time was only a week.

Cal darted down a dark alley with Bellatrix following her as she paused. Scabior walked past her, vanishing into the alley, and causing her to follow. Soon, she saw Cal leaning against a brick wall of a building, Bellatrix standing with her arms crossed and Scabior looking at both of them. She went up and stood next to him. "So what's the plan?" Bellatrix hissed, obviously not happy about Scabior being the head of the mission.

"We need to choose a target, and then we can start," Scabior said, his voice so low and quiet that it was a growl.

"Like what?" Cal asked impatiently. She wanted to have some fun and then get back to the man she loved, Lark Blackwood.

"A building, a street, something," he stated. An idea came up in Sira's mind.

"What about a bridge?" she asked as her blue eyes looked at Scabior. Bellatrix rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

"What would we do to a bridge? Collapse it?" Bellatrix asked with a hint of mocking in her voice.

"Precisely," Sira breathed. "Do you know how much havoc an entire bridge collapsing would cause? A lot." Cal seemed to like the idea but Bellatrix still seemed skeptical.

"Fine," Bellatrix spat unhappily.

"There's a bridge just down the street a few blocks from here," Cal stated as she moved away from the wall, her ice-blue eyes looking down the alley. "It's heavily used and could be prefect for us to take down but how would we?" Everyone's gaze shifted over to Scabior, who was not really leading them.

"Blow it up," he growled as he looked into Sira's eyes, "and then we can set the streets ablaze." Bellatrix grinned cruelly at him; at least something about this mission would be enjoyable for her. Cal nodded with approval as Sira continued to gaze into his eyes passionately. His eyes filled with longing. She moved closer to him and his hand touched her face, sending a tingling through her skin. His lips brushed against hers.

"Scabior, Sira, we're losing time," Cal said. He moved away from her and she shot Cal a furious look. She shrugged and jogged down the alley, allowing the rest to follow her.

Through the alleys and the darkened streets, they moved towards their target, the bridge. Each move they made was calculated and cautious but they still acted quickly. Once they reached the bridge, they stopped. The bridge was enormous and Sira wondered how they would take it out. "We're gonna 'ave to get on the banks of the river below," Scabior stated as he examined the situation. "Cal, Bellatrix, take the left side. Sira and I will take the right." They split up, Sira and Scabior heading down the right side of the bridge and Cal and Bellatrix heading down the other.

"Scabior, I hope this works," she breathed after she reached the water's edge with him by her side. She knew he could sense her growing uncertainty. He moved her hair away from her neck and leaned in close, close enough for his lips to barely touch the skin of her neck. She wanted to collapse in his arms because of everything that she was feeling, a random mixture of longing, wanting, needing, worry, concern, and stress.

"It'll all work, beautiful," he whispered into her ear. "Now, we 'ave to get ready." She drew her wand from her hip as he moved away from her, making her heart twinge with disappointment. He drew his wand too, aiming it at the bridge. "Cal! Bella! Ready!" he barked as she aimed at the bridge. "Aim!"  
The pause seemed to take ages.

"Now!" With a flick of her wrist, the bridge started to sway. Then, there were three, massive explosions, sending fire and smoke into the air. The bridge started to moan was the explosion rocked into structure. Scabior turned as she did and set off up the bank at a dead sprint. Just behind them, a piece of twisted metal hit the bank, groaning and crunching.  
Once they were back on the street, they saw Bellatrix dashing away from them, setting each and every house on the street ablaze. Sira swore she heard her triumphant scream. Cal raced after her.

Soon, the sirens of police cars started to wail in the town and filled the night with sound. People rushed out of their homes, shrieking and wailing, adding to the chaos. A smile spread across her face as she watched the muggles. Scabior's hand closed around hers as they headed back the way they had come. He seemed satisfied and pleased with their work. She was glad that he was.

Suddenly, he stopped and gazed at the havoc behind them. "Scabior," she breathed, her tone questioning. He looked at her and touched her face gently. A new desire flared in his blue-grey eyes.

"Sira, there's something I want to ask you," he whispered as he pulled her close into his chest.

"What, Scabior?" she asked softly with a smile as she looked into his face. He moved away from her a little and took her hands in his. His eyes were fixed on her as he dropped to one knee. Her heart fluttered and sank at the same time.

"Sira," he said passionately, "I love you so dearly and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" She gasped. She wanted to say yes but she couldn't. She wasn't sure she could ever say yes to him. She shook her head and pulled her hands out of his. She had never seen the look in his eyes before, the look of despair, the look of rejection.

"I love you, Scabior," she said slowly as she looked away from him, "but it's just not the right time for us now. It's just that everything has been going so fast." She paused, thinking if she was making the right decision. She was unsure. "I don't want to rush into something like this. I hope you understand." He looked down at the ground as he rose to his feet.

"I understand," he sighed as he rubbed his face with his hands. "I just thought that you would say yes."

"I'm not saying no to you, Scabior," she said as she moved closer to him. "I'm just no ready for something like this." He pushed her away, refusing to look at her, heart-broken. She moved closer to him again and cupped his face, making him look into her eyes. "Scabior, I want to have it someday but not now. It's just too soon." He pulled away from her, his eyes dull and lifeless. He strode away from her and her heart plummeted. She was allowing him to go but she needed him, she didn't want him to go.

"Scabior," she cried but she was too late. There was a crack and he was gone. A horrible feeling crept through her veins like a deadly poison. It was guilt.

Her blue eyes gazed at her feet and the ground below her; she heard footsteps approaching her from the behind. "Sira, let's go home," Cal said. "I think we've had enough tonight." Sira nodded and they vanished with a soft pop.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The dimly-lit room was quite empty except for the very small crowd of people that were scattered across the tavern's main room. Scabior sat at the bar, his head hung low and in a dull state. He couldn't stop thing, he couldn't stop his mind from racing. He shifted his cold drink in his hands as his blue-grey eyes studied it. Sira's words from just earlier that night echoed in his mind.

Does she love me? He asked himself. Does she feel the same way that I feel about her? I need her. She makes me feel so complete and I've never felt this way before.

I know she is right for me, he thought, but am I right for her? But the way she looks at me, the way she smiles at me. Doesn't that say that I'm right for her? Doesn't that mean anything?

Or does it just say that I'm worthless? That I would never be good enough for her and she's just being nice to me? The look on her face when he asked her to marry him flashed before his eyes, causing him to sigh. She's just so perfect. How can someone like her love someone like me?

"Is everything okay?" the bartender asked as he cleaned out a mug, his brown eyes watching Scabior. Scabior looked up at him, his eyes dull and emotionless.

"Yeah, I guess," he sighed. The bartender stopped scrubbing the mug and set it down on the bar with a clank.

"Let me guess," the bartender said proudly, "it's a woman." Scabior shot him a baffled look. He can tell?

"'ow'd you know?" Scabior asked with surprise in his rich voice. The bartender chuckled softly and shook his head.

"When you work here as long as I have, you can just tell," he explained. "So tell me about her." Scabior sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"She's beautiful and sweet and lovely. She's everythin' I could've ever wanted with 'er dark-brown 'air and 'er blue eyes and 'er smile. Oh that beautiful smile," Scabior explained passionately as he recounted his memories of her, "it always makes me stop and stare. Only, I don't think she deserves someone like me. She deserves so much better." The bartender nodded as he picked up another glass and started to rub it.

"It sounds like you really love her, buddy," he said kindly, "so why are you here instead of being with her?"

"I proposed to her tonight and she didn't say yes," he breathed gloomily.

"What did she say? Did she tell you no straight to your face?" the bartender asked in a growl, obviously, he had something similar happen to him.

"No, she just said that she didn't want to rush into this," Scabior explained flatly. "She thought it was too soon." The bartender relaxed a bit as his flash of anger vanished. "I thought she loved me."

"It sounds like she does," the bartender said confidently, "but you just need to give her some time to think this through. I bet, wherever she is, she's thinking about you right now." Scabior looked at the bartender, he felt a little bit better.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"No problem, buddy," the bartender said politely. "I hope everything works out." The bartender picked up the two, cleaned mugs and walked away, leaving Scabior to his thoughts. He would just have to leave Sira alone for a while. He didn't know how long, just a while.

The hardness of the floor was comforting to Sira as she lay there, gazing up at the ceiling. Her blue eyes showed the turmoil raging within her. She didn't know what to think or what to feel. The only thing she was certain about was that she felt guilty for what she said to Scabior the night before and for how she caused him to hurt. She hadn't seen him since. Her heart twinged with and old feeling, one from after she first met Sirius.

The feeling of how she knew she loved him but didn't want to accept that she did. With Sirius, she couldn't understand why she felt so strongly about him after she had just met him. With Scabior though, she couldn't understand why she felt so strongly for him after losing Sirius. She couldn't love Scabior, even though she did, and tried to convince herself that she didn't.

She couldn't deny, though, the way her heart fluttered whenever he walked into the room or the electric feeling his touch sent through her skin. She couldn't deny that she didn't long for him or that she didn't love the way he looked at her. There was no way to deny any of this.

Her thoughts raced on as her eyelids started to grow heavy. It was the first time in a long time that she didn't fight the thought of sleep. She allowed it to slow her mind and calm her emotions as it drug her off into its once-comforting blackness.

Before her eyes was a door, a door that she had opened hundreds of times before. Her heart hammered with excitement in her chest as she knocked on the door eagerly. Her blue eyes were bright, ready to be here again, and full of hope. She finally noticed that she had started to tremble with her nerves. She had a wonderful feeling, a feeling that everything was going to be okay again.

The door seemed to take ages to open but when it finally did, she almost collapsed with relief. Her heart pounded harder in her chest, driven by her joy and her longing. "Sirius," she panted as she gazed at the man in the doorway. She rushed towards him, automatically moving into his chest. "Sirius," she breathed again as the tears welled up in her eyes. She was home, where she belonged.

"Sira," he said sweetly into her ear. He led her up the staircase and into his bedroom, her body still in his arms. Once in the bedroom, he closed the door and led her over to the bed. She buried her face in his shirt, enjoying his warmth and his scent. He chuckled lightly at this and started to stroke her dark-brown curls of hair. His grey eyes were passionate and held his wanting.

"If I may ask, Sira," he said softly, almost caressingly, "why have you been so troubled lately? You know that I wanted you to continue to live your life." His chest rose and fell in a sigh; she hoped he wasn't disappointed with her.

"I just wasn't sure if it's right or okay to feel the way I do, Sirius," she breathed as she looked into his grey eyes as hers showed her guilt. "I didn't know if I should feel as I do for another man, especially after what I did to you. I don't want to cause anyone to suffer wondering if I love them or if I'm faithful." She sighed as she dropped her eyes. "I don't want to hurt anyone like I hurt you, Sirius. You didn't deserve it, you really didn't deserve it." Sadness swelled within her, she truly meant every word she said.

"Sira, we all make mistakes but you need to realize that what you're doing now is hurting someone," he stated remorsefully as he lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Who?" she asked, barely audible.

"That poor fellow that proposed to you the other night," he whispered.

"Scabior," she panted painfully as her guilt amplified. "But I-." Sirius hushed her and she gave him a puzzled look.

"It's okay for you to love another man, Sira," he whispered sweetly as he looked into her eyes passionately. She had always loved the way he had gazed at her. "All I ask is, if you choose to, that don't forget about me and you don't forget who you are. Like I've said before, you have to continue to live your life."

"Sirius, I'm trying," she breathed as the tears rolled down her cheeks, "but I just don't know. I've been shoved into a whole, new world alone and I can't seem to figure it out." He looked at her as if he wanted to say something and then sighed.

"Sira, there's a difference between what you are doing and what I'm asking you to do," he sighed, an edge of irritation in his voice. "All you need to do is remember me, no more, no less. Right now, you can't live because you're running from your memories or you're clutching to them." He shook his head. "You need to let go, Sira. All you need to do is let go." She gazed into his eyes as her eyes filled with confusion.

"But what-."

"Sira, you know what I mean," he whispered as his leaned closer to her. His lips brushed against hers as his hands cupped her face. Her hand went into his hair as their lips met. The kiss was like every kiss they had ever shared and yet so much better and so much more passionate and satisfying. She never wanted this to stop; she never wanted it to end. She needed Sirius in her life and she couldn't she how she had been surviving without him.

"Sira, wake up," a voice said urgently as someone shook her arm. Sirius was gone and she was back on the floor of Cal's house. Her heart sank. His scent still filled her nostrils, her lips still tingled with the touch of his mouth but he wasn't there. It was only a dream.

"What, Cal?" Sira said trying to make sense of reality and fantasy. Cal kneeled beside her, eager to say something as Sira sat up, rubbing her face a little, still thinking that Sirius was there.

"Something amazing happened tonight, Sira," Cal said rapidly her tone joyous, "well, actually, many things were amazing tonight but I want to only tell you about a few of them, or all of them if you want to know everything that happened but I highly doubt-."

"Cal," Sira interrupted sharply, "I don't mean to be rude but can you please cut to the chase."

"Okay, Sira," she said, almost panting a little, "I told Lark who 'Natalie' really was-."

"YOU, WHAT?" Sira shrieked with fear in her eyes. She never wanted Lark to find out who 'Natalie' was, what if he turned her into the Ministry?

"Its fine, Sira," Cal retorted quickly. "He's not angry with you and he's not going to turn you in," she dropped her voice to barely a whisper, "even though you did break his heart and make him lose his job." Sira shot her a glare and she shrugged. "Anyway, I would like for you to talk to him sometime and maybe say you're sorry for what you did to him and say that you didn't truly mean to hurt him or make him lose his job but that's beside the point."

"Cal, we're talking about the guard that I broke for my benefit and you say that he's not angry with me," Sira said slowly. "How can he not be angry with me?"

"I don't know. He only said that he wasn't angry because he thought you still had a problem and that if you didn't escape, he wouldn't have quit his job and he wouldn't have ever met me," Cal explained rapidly. "He said you're the reason he met the love of his life, his ray of sunshine on a rainy day, his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, his rose in a bush of thorns-."

"Cal, I get it," Sira sighed. "He wouldn't have met you if it wasn't for me."

"Oh, yes," Cal said quickly with a little sigh, "but, Sira, I really need to tell you something."

"What is it, Cal?" Sira asked expecting her to start raving again about Lark but instead, Cal just smiled at her. The smile was joyful, innocent, and excited but she stayed silent. "Cal, what is it?" She didn't respond, she just continued to smile. Suddenly, Sira realized what Cal wanted to say and she jumped to her feet.

"Cal, he did? He really did?" Sira asked as Cal rose to her feet with her smile still on her face. Sira couldn't believe it, she really couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, he really did, Sira," Cal said happily as she nodded her head.

"He asked you to marry him?" Sira asked, still sounding completely shocked.

"Yeah," Cal panted. Sira threw her arms around Cal and laughed.

"Cal, I'm so happy for you," she said rapidly. "You two are just so perfect for each other and-." Sira stepped away from Cal and ran her hand through her hair. Scabior's face flashed in her mind from the other night. She shook her head.

"Sira, what's wrong?" Cal asked, sounding truly concerned and worried.

"I need to find him, Cal," she whispered. "I need to get him back."

"Who are you talking about?" Cal questioned out of confusion.

"Scabior," she panted. "He asked me the other night to marry him and I said that I needed some time. He went away and I haven't seen him since. I need to find him, Cal, and I need to tell him how I feel." She rushed over to a chair that had her traveling cloak hung over its back. She grabbed the cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Quickly, she raced to the front door and threw it open.

"Go, Sira. Go," Cal shouted after her. "Find your love for you can't afford to lost him again." The door slammed closed as Sira was hit with the warm night. She raced down from the doorstep and out into the woods where she vanished. She knew she had already loved and lost once before but she wouldn't let it happen again. It just couldn't happen again.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Her options were running out and her mission had come up unsuccessful so far. It had been four days since Sira ran out of Cal's house with a quest in her heart, a quest to get back the one she loved. She had searched everywhere she thought he could possibly be, anywhere she could possibly find him. He was nowhere to be found.

Her heart sank with her growing belief that she would never find him, that he was lost forever. She ached with her pain, her belief. As Cal had said, she couldn't afford to lose him again. But what did Cal mean? This was the first time that Scabior and she had been apart. Soon, Sira began to think that Cal didn't mean Scabior exactly, but her love for a man instead.

She had loved and lost before, her stomach churned with the thought of Sirius, still not accepting his death, but she knew that she couldn't lose again in the game of love. She just couldn't. Is this what Cal meant? That she couldn't lose again? Sira was confident in this answer.

Quickly, she started to recount her memories of where Scabior and she went, of where Scabior told her where he liked to go. Only, she had gone to each and every one of those places, all except for three: Azkaban, where they first met, Gringotts, their second meeting, and the tavern where they shared their first kiss. She doubted that he would be at Gringotts or Azkaban, so that left her with the tavern. It was her last chance.

She appeared out on the street in front of the tavern. The evening light was growing old for it was late in the day, approaching sunset. Her heart pounded in her chest, pounding with her nerves. If he was anywhere, he would be there. She jogged up to the door and pushed it open, allowing the smell of alcohol to waft out into the street. She took a deep breath and entered the tavern.

No one was in the tavern, causing it to look deserted. Her footsteps echoed off the wooden floor as she headed towards the bar. "Hello," she called loudly, her voice holding her stress as she pulled her hood lower on her head. No answer. "Hello."

A door opened and a man stepped out from a back room, his brown eyes studying her. "What can I do for you, miss?" the man, who was the bartender, asked as he walked up to the bar and started to clean a mug with a towel.

"I'm looking for someone by the name of Scabior," she said softly as she looked the bartender dead in the eye. He seemed to know the name.

"So you're the one that poor, heart-broken chap was talking 'bout," the bartender stated. "He said that you had dark-brown, curly hair, blue eyes, and were beautiful and you're all of those things." He shook his head, chuckling to himself, as he set down the mug. "I told him that you were thinking 'bout him and that, with some time, you would think it all through. So what are you doing here?"

"I messed up," Sira sighed, "and I need to talk to him. I know how I feel now and he needs to know too." The bartender smiled at her as his eyes beamed at her happily.

"His room is up the stairs and the third door on the right," he stated. She head towards the stairs and was about to climb them when she turned and gave the bartender a smile. He chuckled. "He was also right 'bout your smile." She climbed the stairs, her breathing becoming deeper and her heart hammering in her chest.

The hall was dark, the only light coming from a single window directly down the hall from her. She took a deep breath and headed for his door. Once in front of it, she stopped, frozen to the spot. Her heart raced with her emotions. Her hand rose to knock on the door, but she stopped herself before she could. Is he mad at me? She asked herself. She didn't know but she would find out soon enough. She knocked on the door.

"Go away," a voice said from within. She inhaled, as if to say something but then sighed. She didn't want to force him but he didn't even know she was here. He hand found the door knob and she tried it. It turned open easily.

"Scabior," she panted as she opened the door, her eyes filled with tears. He was there, gazing at her with his blue-grey eyes, leaning back against the pillows on his bed. Sadness, glee, and desire filled her as she closed the door. He climbed out of the bed quickly and she raced over to him, moving into his chest as his arms wrapped around her. "Scabior," she breathed again as she buried her face in his shirt, "I messed up. I messed everything up." Her tears rolled down her face. "I just can't lose you, Scabior. I love you so much and I don't know what I would do without you. I know it now, Scabior, and I don't question it anymore."

"Sira," he panted as he hugged her tighter. She shook her head.

"All I have wanted over these last few days was to have you back," she said quickly. "I've been searching and searching for you and I couldn't find you. I was running out of options and I was desperate. Oh, I'm just glad that I finally found you."

"Sira," he said again.

"I hope you're not angry with me either," she sobbed gently. "I love you and I know that I hurt you and you have the right to be angry with me for that but please don't, Scabior. Please don't be mad at me. I can't stand to see you hurt." He started to stroke her hair caressingly. "I love you, Scabior."

"Sira, listen to me," he breathed into her ear. "I'm not angry with you and I know that you 'ave 'urt from this too. You were right though, we were going too fast. I just love you so much, beautiful, that I didn't realize 'ow long we 'ave actually been together. We both made a mistake. I just 'ope we can look past this." She gazed up into his eyes. They had both suffered, they had both felt pain. The look in his eyes told her that he was confident that they would make it, that they would be okay. She gave him a sweet smile as her tears continued to fall from her eyes.

"I love you, Scabior," she whispered as his lips brushed against hers. Their mouths met in met in a sweet and tender, yet strong and passionate kiss. His breath was hot in her mouth. She weaved her hand into his hair as his hand ran down her side. She let out a little gasp as he pulled her over to the bed. She wanted his touch, his comfort, and his passion. Right now, it was all she needed.

He gently set her in the bed, not removing his mouth from hers. Her hands cupped his face, her touch sending sensations through his skin and holding her wanting. The feel of her body under his, the feel of her warmth, made his suffering vanish in an instant. His lips moved to her neck, causing her to let out a little whimper. She wanted him for he took away her pain, he ended her numbness. He pulled the covers over them as her blue eyes closed.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The morning light filled the room with a warm glow as Sira laid in Scabior's arms. He had never let her go, not once throughout the night. She was happy and content in his arms, not having a care in the world. Scabior was her world now and she had Sirius to thank for that because, without him, she would probably be back at Cal's house, wondering what she had and lost. She still missed Sirius dearly and she still didn't accept his death, but Scabior comforted her and had become her Sirius. Though Scabior had his differences from Sirius, he still loved her the same way and he had the same look in his eyes. Sira didn't care about the differences; all that mattered to her was that he loved her for who she was.

Scabior shifted and started to stroke her hair, bringing her out of her sleep. A tired smile formed on her face and he chuckled, low, sweet, and passionate. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispered as he looked into her blue eyes. Her hands caressed his face, running from his ear to his chin and causing him to smile. She moved her hands to his chest as her lips brushed against his neck. She loved him, she really loved him.

"Scabior," she breathed. He treasured the way she said his name, it always made something within him flush. His hand cupped her face as she gazed at him passionately. They needed no words to say what they were feeling, it was told in their eyes. It was as if they were falling in love for the first time. They shared something special, something that many only get to experience once in a lifetime.

"Sira," he whispered, "I knew l loved you since the day I met you in Azkaban, but I never knew that I would feel this way." His eyes glittered in the warm light.

"It's magical, isn't it?" she asked sweetly. "The longing, the desire when you're away is nothing compared to the feeling you get when you're together." Something in his eyes had changed and a pang of worry went through her.

"If you don't mind me asking, lovely," he breathed slowly, "what made you become sure of us? I mean, you didn't seem completely sure before." She flashed him a smile, sweet and kind, as she remembered Sirius' words. Right now, she felt that he was with her.

"An old, dear friend helped me out. A past love, actually," she sighed, it was the first time she was able to refer to Sirius without the numbness returning. He used to give her so much strength and now, slowly, Scabior was giving it to her.

"Who?" Scabior asked with concern jolting through his body, causing him to stiffen.

"Scabior, it's okay," she stated. "He came to me in a dream." His body relaxed again, it showed in his eyes. He was truly relieved. "Oh, I forgot to tell you," she said with a little laughter in her voice, "Cal is engaged to be married." Scabior looked confused, like if he was asking why she told him that.

"Good fer 'er," he said quickly looking disgusted, causing Sira to giggle lightly.

"Scabior, you don't have to be mad at her," she whispered as she touched his face, "and, someday, that'll be us." He smiled at her and chuckled.

"I thought we agreed to wait," he said proudly.

"Yeah, but you seem to be making a promise," she retorted cockily. He laughed again as she moved away from him a bit but he pulled her back into his chest. She gave him another smile.

"You know that I'd marry you right now," he breathed, "but we need to be sure that we want to spend the rest of our lives together."

"I know, I want to wait, just to be sure," she admitted. "Oh, another thing I forgot to tell you is that Cal wants me to go talk to her fiancé." His blue-grey eyes filled with puzzlement.

"Why?" he asked.

"He was the guard that I fooled to get out of Azkaban and Cal says I need to apologize for what I did to him," she stated calmly. "You know the guard that I tricked into loving me but I didn't love him back."

"Ah, that guy," Scabior growled his voice filled with anger.

"Scabior," she laughed, "I just said I didn't love him, but there is someone I do love." He smiled as she moved closer to him. Their lips met inn a kiss as her hands went into his hair. It was like every kiss they had ever had but it always made her feel alive. He pulled away just a bit and gazed into her eyes.

"I love you, Sira," he whispered as he pushed a strand of her dark-brown hair out of her face. She smiled at him, sweet and innocent.

"I love you too, Scabior," she breathed.

Sira stood on the doorstep of Cal's house later that day, ready to make her apology to Lark. She was a little nervous, enough to make her hands a little clammy and her heart to beat a bit faster. She knocked on the door three times to make her presence known; she didn't want to walk in on them again. Quickly, the door opened. "Sira!" Cal said happily. "Did you get him back?" She gave Cal a little smile.

"Yep, and is Lark here? I wanted to apologize to him, Cal," she said back as she entered the house. Cal smiled at her, truly happy to see her. Sira knew that Cal was also glad that she was going to say that she was sorry.

"I'll go get him, Sira," Cal stated, "and let's just talk in the living room." She raced off towards the kitchen as Sira headed into the living room. Once there, she sank down in a leather chair across from the sofa. Footsteps came from the hallway and soon, Cal and Lark entered the room and sat down on the sofa together. Lark looked the same as she remembered him to look but his eyes were different. His once-glittering, emerald eyes were dull and cloudy. A pang of guilt went through her. This was only the beginning of what she did to him. Lark turned his head as he reached for Cal's hand, his eyes returned to their usual glittering as he looked at her. Cal was right, she did help him heal.

"Lark," Sira said smoothly as he looked at Sira, causing her to become uncomfortable, "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry that I hurt you. It was wrong of me to do so and I realize that now. I used you to get what I wanted and what I wanted was to be out of Azkaban. At that time, it was all I wanted and I didn't care who I used to get it. I took advantage of Azkaban's latest weakness, that they were actually using wizards as guards. I knew that all I needed was one guard, a guard that was good-hearted and kind. I would use that guard to convince the other guards that there was a problem with me and take me, hopefully, somewhere else so I could escape. I also knew that I wouldn't be able to escape the prison itself.

"So, you, Lark, were the guard I used," Sira sighed as Cal's eyes turned cold. "I convinced you that I loved you so you would love me back for you were already concerned about me. I took your caring nature and your concern and twisted it so you would help me and, actually, make my escape easier." She studied Lark, his faces was blank, showing no emotion at all. A broken man.

"Now, Lark, I see that I should have never done what I did to you," she stated, "especially since I acted like I loved you, making you fall in love with me, and then just turning around and using you. It was sick and evil of me to do that to you and I'm truly, deeply sorry for it." Something flickered in his emerald eyes, it was a question.

"It wasn't my fault, then, wasn't it, Sira?" Lark asked monotonously. "It wasn't my fault that you escaped?"

"No, it wasn't," she replied softly. She felt so bad seeing him this way, it caused her guilt to eat her alive. Cal was looking at Lark with concern; this was putting strain on all of them.

"Did you have any feelings for me, any feelings at all?" he asked flatly and slowly, as if it hurt him to ask.

"No," she breathed, "I'm sorry." Cal looked at her, her ice-blue eyes rimmed with tears while they burned with a bit of fury. "I know that this is hard for you but it's hard for me, too. I wish that you would forgive me, Lark, and we could put this behind us. Do you forgive me, Lark?" Suddenly, his eyes became livid with rage as his entire face seemed to darken. His body stiffened with a mixture of his pain and his anger.

"No, Sira," he growled. "I can't forgive you."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"What?" Sira asked in a whisper. She couldn't believe it; she couldn't believe that Lark was this angry about this. She knew what she did was wrong and awful but he didn't get over it.

"No, I can't forgive you, Sira," Lark growled cruelly. Cal looked at her darkly, she felt the same way that Lark did about her. He stood up, almost shaking with his rage and his fury. He was murderous; it shone in his emerald eyes. "You ruined me, you ruined my life. I was confident that you were a better person than what you are, Sira, but it turns out that you are no fucking better than the other Death Eaters locked away in Azkaban right now. I loved you, Sira, and all just to be fucking stabbed in the back! You're just a sick and twisted piece of trash that deserves to be locked away for life, never to see the light of day. You're just a dirty, little whore! You can just go and fucking rot for all I care, Sira Volkov! Go rot like the piece of filth you are!"

Anger flared in her chest, trying to get her to snarl back at Lark, but she resisted. She knew that she was in a delicate situation and she had a friendship hanging on the line. She inhaled deeply, calming herself and waited out Lark's fury. "Lark," she stated after he finished, "I know I deserve to be called all of those things but I would like you to understand me a little better. I would like to show you my whole past and, maybe, you'll understand why I do the things that I do." Lark gave her a questioning look. "Cal, didn't you tell me once that you had a Pensieve?"

"Yes, I do have one," Cal hissed, trying hard to cover her anger towards her friend. "Do you need it?"

"Yes, if you would please get it," Sira said softly as Cal stood and headed out of the room. Lark just glared at her and she tried not to notice. The air was thick with tension in the room and it seemed to take ages for Cal to return with the Pensieve. She set it down on a table beside Sira and went to Lark, trying to comfort him.

"Why did you need the Pensieve, Sira?" Cal asked as she sat down beside Lark, who was still glaring at her.

"I want to take Lark through my memories," she stated as she went to the Pensieve, "all of my memories. I believe that he will benefit from knowing my past, Cal." Cal stood again and went over to Sira, her ice-blue eyes gleaming with her irritation. Her hand clinched on Sira's shoulder tightly as her anger and her disgust showed in her face. Sira's eyes grew wide with her disbelief.

"Whatever you can show him, Sira," she hissed, "you can show me. I don't care if you don't want me to come 'cause I am and nothing can stop me." Sira nodded quickly in agreement, she didn't want to make Cal more furious with her. Her attention turned back to the Pensieve as she drew her wand and placed the tip of it on her temple as Cal returned to Lark. One by one, she put her memories into the Pensieve, like she did last time. As she finished, she went back through them, making sure they were all there. She sighed; this was going to be difficult for all of them.

"Okay," she said flatly as she rotated to face Cal and Lark, "all of my memories are in the Pensieve now." Lark stood, holding Cal's hand as she did the same, and they came over to it, gazing at it with suspicion in their eyes. Lark's eyes still glittered with his rage. "I'm going to walk you two through them," she breathed painfully. Maybe it'll help me too, she said in her thoughts. She touched the surface of the Pensieve, bringing forth her first memory. Its image filled the bowl. She leaned down, allowing her face to break the surface and felt herself tumbling down through a murky darkness. She landed on her feet to see Cal and Lark beside her, still holding hands.

Her blue eyes found herself as a young child, full of innocence and wonder, in her parent's house, her house, sitting on the floor with a handsome man and a stunning woman. They were her father, Dmitri, and her mother, Azura. A smile was on each of their faces, gazing at young Sira lovingly. "Daddy, are we ever gonna get a puppy?" Her mother let out a laugh that was soft but sweet.

"Maybe someday," he replied, "but not right now." Young Sira looked sad, as if it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Sira was breathless, frozen with a flicker of realization. The memory changed slowly into another as they moved through her happy, early life to the day her parents disappeared. Sira couldn't believe it; she couldn't believe any of it. She looked back at Cal and Lark, refusing to watch anymore of her parents' goodbye. Their faces show no anger; they were blank as if they didn't know what to think. They were only beginning to understand and they had plenty more to go through.

Her younger self laid in her bed in her Uncle Faulkner's house, fast asleep, as she, Lark and Cal stood in the corner of her tiny bedroom. The door to the room opened, allowing light to flood the room as young Sira stirred. The door slammed shut with a loud crack and Faulkner stood at the foot of the bed, glaring at little Sira with a murderous look in his eyes. "Uncle?" her younger-self whined. He hobbled over to her, obviously in a drunken state. His hand gripped her shoulder, digging into her flesh. She whimpered with her fear. "Uncle, what are you doing?" she asked in a soft, fearful whine. He ripped back the covers from around her. The hand that wasn't clutching her shoulder turned into a fist and came down on her. She let out a horrible scream.

"You scum," he exhaled between blows. "You trash. You half-blood." His brown eyes were livid with his fury, but yet cloudy with his drunkenness. Tears streaked down her face as her screams continued. Sira watched this from the corner, one of her worst memories, one of the memories she would never speak of to anyone. She couldn't take anymore, so she covered her eyes, her tears rolling down her face as younger Sira's screams continued. "No one," Faulkner barked, "no one will ever love you. No one will ever care about you." One more scream filled the room as one final blow fell upon her. Faulkner turned and exited the room. Young Sira curled herself into a ball, trying to stop her uncontrollable shaking. Blood trickled from her lip as the bruises started to bloom all over her arms, face, and back. A whimper broke out of her chest, a whimper of pain and the memory dissolved into another.

She was glad to leave the memory behind for it brought back all of the old pains of her past. She didn't try to think of this too much. They moved from memory to memory, studying each one along the way. It was difficult for Sira to relieve this part of her past; it caused too many emotions to bloom. Right now, she felt dull, numb, and she could barely breathe. If she wasn't crying, she was on the verge of it until they reached her memories of Hogwarts.

On the grounds of Hogwarts, Sira sat under a shady tree with Anastasia, just outside enjoying the wonderful day. The sun was shining and everything was bright. "I can't believe that our third year is almost over, Anastasia," Sira sighed as she watched some of the first years scuttle past them.

"I know, it just doesn't seem possible," Anastasia stated with a sigh. "Do you have any plans for this summer?" Sira exhaled sharply and let out a little laugh.

"Do I ever have any plans for summer? I'm just moving around from relative to relative like always and hopefully I don't have to spend much time at my uncle Faulkner's," Sira hissed as if she was irritated. Anastasia gave her a concerned and confused look as Sira pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.

"You'll have to come over sometime, Sira," Anastasia said softly as she continued to watch her friend.

"Yeah, I'll have to," Sira breathed. "I just wish I wouldn't have to leave here in the first place." Young Sira looked stricken with her problem, with leaving her only home and returning to the places she hated most. Once again, the memory changed and they moved through many more of her time at Hogwarts, all good and merry, and then through her auror training. They saw her receiver her letter to go to see Dumbledore to talk about her task that he wanted her to complete.

Sira and Sirius sat on the sofa in Number 12, Grimmauld Place; she was blushing as they talked. She noticed the look in his eyes, the look of longing, but she wondered if he truly did feel the same. He would smile at her and her heart would flutter. They didn't know it then, for it was the first time they had met, but they would do anything to keep their relationship going. Tears streaked down Sira's face as she watched and her pain, her grief, and her loss returned.

They shared their first kiss and, after, she fell asleep in his arms the day before she had to leave for the Death Eaters. Lark, Cal and Sira observed as she met the Dark Lord for the first time and her kill a man. They saw her make allies with Narcissa and Lucius, send the clearing alight with her rage, and receive her Mark. They saw her happy reunion with Sirius; Sira's emotions grew stronger, making it harder for her to keep going. Each look, each kiss, and each touch her and Sirius shared sent a shock of pain through her body, jolting her. Sira didn't even notice Lark and Cal anymore. The tears poured from her eyes, unable to control them as her body started to tremble. Could she continue on through her memories? She knew she had to, she just had to.

Seeing Sirius' death again, hearing her screams for him caused the numbness and the emptiness to return to her. It was like cutting open an old wound. Her trembling stopped as the brown wolf went into a depressed state. What did I do? She asked herself. What happened to me? Then, she returned to the Dark Lord and knew what she had to do. They watched her play with Lark's heart in Azkaban, her escape, and her murder of her aunt. Cal and her meeting pasted by quickly and painlessly and so did her first kiss with Scabior. Slowly, they reached the end of her memories and everything returned to Cal's living room.

Sira walked away from Cal and Lark and sank down into the chair she was sitting in, her hands shaking and her tears still falling. "Sira," Cal breathed as she watched her friend put her face in her hands. "Sira, I'm sorry," Cal said remorsefully, there was no anger in her voice at all.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," she breathed. Cal shook her head and went over to her friend. She knelt down beside her and took her hands in hers with a dull look in her eyes.

"Sira, I never knew how troubled your past was," Cal said flatly, "and I knew that what you and Sirius had was special, but I never knew how much you lost. No one should ever have to experience what you have." Sira nodded as Lark came over to Cal. He placed his hand on Cal's shoulder, his fury no longer burned in his eyes.

"I still don't accept your apology, Sira," Lark stated monotonously, "but I do now think that you had a reason to treat me the way you did. I'll never forgive you for that, Sira, but I'm comforted to know your past, comforted to know that you are troubled." Confusion filled her eyes, was he trying to thank her or trying to insult her? She couldn't take it anymore, she couldn't take her emotions. They weakened her, they tortured her, and they plagued her. She stood, pulling her hands away from Cal's as her tears rolled down her cheeks, and jogged out of the room to the front door of the house. With a loud slam, she was out of the house and racing into the woods.

Memories flashed before her eyes as she flew through the forest, fueled by her emotions. She just wanted to run, to go away and never have to face anything ever again. An old longing welled up within her, a longing for death. In an instant, she realized she was falling, tumbling to the earth. She shifted over to her back, her chest rising and falling in labored pants, as her blue eyes watched the clear night sky above. Let go, Sirius' voice echoed in her mind for the first time in a long time as a wave of calm washed over her, making her eyelids grow heavy. She laid there in the forest, wondering how she could let go. She thought that she was, that she was moving on but she wasn't. She would never move on for she didn't know how to. The thought brought on a new surge of tears as her world slowly changed into blackness.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

After Sira woke the next morning in the forest, she went to return to Scabior, still having the wish of death in her heart. She walked down the hall of the tavern to his room, her tears slowly rolling down her face as she knocked on the door. Her breaths seemed to come in wheezes as she waited for the door to open. When it finally did, Scabior pulled her close and closed the door behind them. "'ello, beautiful," he whispered as he caressed her face. "Did everything go okay with the apology?"

"No," she breathed lightly, "he didn't accept my apology." His hand moved into her hair as he started to run his fingers through it. His lips brushed against her check.

"Why didn't 'e?" he asked softly, unable to hide the agitation in his tone.

"What I did to Lark was awful, Scabior," she replied flatly, "and I knew he wouldn't accept my apology anyway." She lowered her head, forcing him a little farther away from her as she leaned her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beat but the sound brought little comfort to her. "But I had to do it." He pulled her closer to him.

"That's not the only thing botherin' you, lovely," he said in a low, passionate voice. "What's wrong?" She shook her head a little bit and sighed.

"Oh, Scabior, you know that I had an unpleasant past," she stated sadly, "but I thought that showing Lark my memories would change his mind about me. It didn't and I choose to walk him through them." A feeling of despair brought on more tears as she closed her blue eyes. "I forced myself to relive the horrors of my past, Scabior, and I don't know what to do about myself. I don't know what to think about myself," she sobbed into his chest. "I'm a completely different person now; nothing about me is the same. I've changed so much in under and year that I don't know what to do. I never used to be like this, Scabior. I never used to be like this." She rubbed her faces on his chest, wetting his shirt with her tears.

"Sira," he sighed as a loud sob broke out of her chest. His blue-grey eyes were full of concern and worry.

"I only want one thing anymore, Scabior," she cried as her hands clutched the front of his shirt, her eye desperate. "I want to die. It's the only thing I want."

"No, Sira," he panted painfully as his eyes filled with his horror and his body stiffened with his fear. "No, you can't. You can't leave me," he begged. "I love you." She looked at him, directly into his eyes as she pulled away from him. Her eyes were filled with a gloom, she had made her decision. She shook her head as she backed away from him. Her tears had stopped falling from her eyes as she drew the blade from her left forearm.

"It's all I want, Scabior," she whispered as she put the tip of the blade against her chest, directly over her heart. "It's all I want." She gasped as another tidal wave of emotions flooded her mind, causing the blade to cut her skin. Blood welled up at the site.

"Sira, please don't," he panted as he stepped closer to her. "I love you, I need you." She pushed the blade a bit, sending a sharp pain through her chest. "Please don't leave me." The blade still had far to travel to reach her heart, it had barely cut the skin. She shook her head again.

"If you loved me, Scabior, you would let me do this," she stated. Blood start to stain her shirt, causing a growing dark spot. Scabior's eyes looked at her desperately, he didn't want her to do this, and he could let her do this. He took a few steps closer to her. "If you loved me, you would let me go."

Her eyes grew wide with horror as the blade clattered against the floor. She collapsed but Scabior was there to hold her up, to keep her from falling. Her tears welled up in her eyes as she gasped. He pulled her into his chest as Sirius had done hundreds of times before and held her, allowing her blood to trickle onto her. Her body started to convulse with her sobs, they were loud and painful. He was silent for the longest time, allowing herself time to think about what she had done, what she had lost.

"Sira," he whispered into her ear as her body grew weak in his arms, "I love you and I'll 'elp you. I'll 'elp you through this. Trust me. Please, trust me." Her eyelids fluttered with her pain, making it hard for her to stay conscious. He leaned her head against his chest, his body shaking ever so slightly with his fear. "Everything will be okay, Sira. I'll get you through this." So many people before had told her that, that everything would be okay, but this time it felt different. Instead of being words of reassurance, they were words of truth. A promise.

"I love you, Scabior," she exhaled as her eyes shut and her body went slack in his arms.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Sira sat in the corner of the living room of Cal's house with her knees drawn up to her chest. She had been one of the main discussions over the last few weeks. Some of the Death Eaters wondered if she was mentally able to continue on with her duty to the Dark Lord. Right now, Scabior and Cal were talking about what to do with her to make sure she was okay. Lately, she had returned to a depressed state, only talking voluntarily to Scabior and Cal, no one else. She kept thinking of how she could be gone now, of how she could be with Sirius.

After the incident, Scabior went to Cal to see Sira's memories that were in the Pensieve and, luckily, all of them still were. At first, he seemed horrified with her past, but then he began to realize why she acted the way she did. Soon, he never left her alone for more than a few minutes and tried to coax her to talking about what had happened to her and how it changed her. She wouldn't have expected a man like him to care so much about her well-being. He was doing what he promised; he was trying to help her through it.

Maybe that's what Sirius meant, maybe he meant that she needed to embrace her past, accept what happened and continue on with her life. He wanted her to be comfortable with it like Dumbledore wanted her to be comfortable with her dark side. She had to be comfortable with her past before she could ever move on. The thought caused her to sigh, it was all just a theory and she didn't even know if it was true. She wished Sirius was there.

"Sira," Cal said as she entered the room with Scabior, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," she replied flatly as Scabior crossed the room to her. He helped her to her feet. A shot of pain went through her chest, causing her to inhale sharply. Even though the cut she gave herself didn't break all the way through the skin, it was slow to heal and left a tight, and sometimes painful, scar. She leaned against Scabior as she led her forward. Sometimes, she was too weak to move.

"You're going to be fine, beautiful," he breathed to her as he led her out of the room and to the front door. "Cal and I think it would be best if we go and speak with the Dark Lord." Sira looked at him dully and nodded, she didn't know what to think about it. He gazed back at her, his eyes whispering 'trust me.'

"Okay, Scabior," she panted. With that, they stepped out of Cal's house and vanished.

She sat in a leather chair in the formal living room of the Malfoy Manor, waiting for the Dark Lord and Scabior to finish their conversation over her. Narcissa seemed to be in the same state that she was in the last time Sira saw her. She hadn't even talked to her once while she was here. Sira didn't care though; they just didn't want to talk to each other. Footsteps came from the hallway, causing her to turn her head to the sound. The Dark Lord entered the room first, his crimson eyes fixed on her and glaring as Scabior followed behind him. Scabior didn't look pleased. "Volkov," the Dark Lord hissed sinisterly, "I hear that you have been having problems lately, problems that have affecter everything but, most importantly, your ability to fulfill your duties as a Death Eater. Is this correct?" She dropped her eyes and looked down at her folded hands in her lap.

"Yes, my Lord," she stated monotonously as Scabior sat down in a chair beside her, gazing at her with concern.

"Also, is it true that all of these problems are related to your past?" the Dark Lord asked in a hiss.

"Yes, my Lord," she said once again.

"So you came to me to help fix your problems," he growled, "when I could be doing other, much more important things. You know that time is precious, Volkov, and each minute counts, but you still came, asking me for help. Well, I cannot unless you wish to have all memories cleared from your mind." Scabior stood, his eyes blazing with a sudden rage.

"You told me that you could 'elp 'er!" Scabior barked. An evil smile spread across the Dark Lord's face.

"I said that I may be able to help her, Scabior," he snarled proudly. Scabior looked furious as if nothing was going right. "Anyway Volkov, you are well enough now to continue on as a Death Eater and, soon, there is going to be a mission that will surely get you back to normal." His eyes shifted back to Scabior. "For that outburst earlier, you are never allowed to become a Death Eater but you are allowed to remain as one of my followers. Now, good day." He turned and headed out of the room. Sira looked at Scabior; he was panting and trembling with his rage.

"Scabior," she breathed, her eyes begging him to calm down. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. He dragged her out of the house in an instant. Something about his fury comforted her, it made her feel better. She didn't know why, it just did. "Scabior," she said with a bit of passion in her voice as she pulled her wrist out of his hand. He turned and gave her a vicious look; she felt something within her flush. She stared at him.

"What?" he asked sharply with more anger than he meant to show.

"Please, Scabior, it's not your fault that he won't help me," she whispered smoothly. "Please calm down." He gave her a baffled look.

"No I won't calm down," he barked at her sinisterly. "'e promised that 'e would 'elp you. You don't take back promises like that." Some idea flashed in her mind, it was crazy but the Dark Lord would do something like she was thinking. She had wondered why he didn't kill her that day in the Department of Mysteries and she believed that she knew why, even if it was false.

"Scabior, look at my past. Has there ever been a time that he has helped me?" she asked as she stepped closer to him. He looked astonished for she seemed to actually be returning to normal. "No, he never has. He wants me to suffer, Scabior. He wants me to be punished for being a traitor to him once, one time too many." She thought back to when she begged for death and was denied the privilege to receive if for Voldemort was a 'merciful' lord. "I wanted death once before, as you know, in the Department of Mysteries and he didn't bring it upon me, even though I deserved it. He saw that death would be too easy, so he let me live and suffer a punishment worse than death. He made me live without a love, he made me live with my past."

"So you believe that's why 'e's not 'elping you," he said with less rage. "'e wants you to suffer." She nodded as she moved into his chest.

"I don't need his help anyway," she said sweetly. "You've helped me through all of this more than anyone else has. As long as I have you, Scabior, I think I'll be okay. And for that, I owe you everything but I have no more to give. I've already given you my heart, my love, and my mind, so what is there left to give?" She tilted her head as she looked into his blue-grey eyes. They were soft, no longer burning with anger, and passionate.

"You don't 'ave to give anymore, beautiful," he whispered. "'cause I 'ave everything I've ever wanted right 'ere in my arms." She flashed him a smile just before their lips met in a sweet kiss. Sira was lucky to have him for he made her feel normal again; he made her feel whole again. He pulled away and gazed at her longingly. She smiled at him again as she let out a little laugh.

"I can't believe that I'm able to love again," she breathed.

"Some people get second chances, lovely," he whispered, "and I'm glad you're one of them."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Sira sat on the sofa in Cal's living room with Scabior, his arm wrapped around her waist. He brushed her hair away from her face as she giggled lightly. She was so glad that she was feeling normal, actually happy again. It felt like it had been ages since she had a day that she didn't have to think about her past. Also, she was glad that Scabior and Cal had put aside their differences to allow her to heal. She was grateful for their friendships. "What are you thinkin' 'bout, lovely?" Scabior breathed into her ear. Her blue eyes looked at him, gleaming with her joy, as she gave him a little smile.

"Just how lucky I am to have someone like you to love," she stated kindly, "and how glad I am that you helped me." He flashed her a smile.

"You're so sweet, beautiful," he whispered as his lips brushed again her neck. She felt her cheeks redden with her wanting.

"And you're so caring, Scabior," she said passionately. "I can't believe that you care for me like you do." He pulled away from her a bit and gave her a puzzled look.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, hiding that hint of concern in his voice.

"No, no, Scabior," she said quickly. "I'm trying to say that you love me so much that you would do anything for me to be happy, for me to be okay. I've only met one other man that loved me like that." She gave him a hopeful look as he seemed to relax a bit.

"I'd do anything for you," he said in a low, longing voice. "I need you, I need your touch, and I need your smile. You don't know 'ow happy you make me, beautiful." His blue-grey eyes sparkled with his words. "I've never been this happy in my entire life." She gave him a look as a question formed in her eyes.

"Scabior, I've always wanted to ask you but I never have," she breathed as her question glittered in her eyes. "What of your past?" He looked away from her as if uncomfortable about the topic. "I don't mean to force you to tell me if you don't want to talk to me about it, it's just that I've always wondered," she said quickly as if to cover up a mistake.

"No, Sira," he said softly as his gazed returned to her, "I should've told you a long time ago. You need to know and it's my fault that you don't."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she stated as she shook her head slightly. She was angry with herself for even bringing up the point.

"I want to, beautiful," he stressed as he gazed into her eyes. "I need to." She nodded her head slowly. "When I was a boy, I'd always 'ang around with the wrong people, by my parent's standards. They saw my friends as 'criminals' and 'delinquencies'' and sometimes forbid me to be with them. My parents thought that I should act the way they acted as rich purebloods. I didn't like the idea of acting 'proper' all the time so I went against my parents' will. That started well before I went to 'ogwarts." He paused, taking a deep breath, and then continued on. "I was a Slytherin, of course, but my parents continued their attempts to control me.

"But I fought them until one day, they disowned me," he stated flatly. "They kicked me out and forced me to live on my own, never to return again. Did I care? I 'ad just gotten what I'd wanted for years. So I went to my friends and started to commit small crimes with them, nothin' big, just theft and the like. It was a way to keep me alive on the streets and, let me tell you, it was 'arder that you think." He shook his head.

"Soon, my friends and I started to steal bigger and more expensive things and, one day, I was caught and taken to Azkaban for a few months. As you know, I met you there and I waited for the day I would be released. That day came and I returned to stealing until I 'eard that you 'ad escaped. I was driven to find you, I needed to find you and, luckily, I did."

"So is that why you don't have a last name?" Sira asked sweetly.

"Yeah," he breathed with relief, "and, now that I think about it, my past is nothing compared to yours."

"It's not a competition," she said with a rambunctious smile, "but we both had difficult pasts." He looked at her as his longing flared in his eyes. There was so much that they both wanted to forget so they ran from it but, at least, they could run together. She touched his face lightly with her fingertips as he seemed to relax. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers. A burning sensation shot through her left arm, causing her to pull away with a little hiss.

"What's wrong, lovely?" Scabior asked sounding a little disappointed and concerned as she pulled her left sleeve quickly. Her Mark was black and moving, sending shots of pain up her arm. It hadn't done this in what seemed like ages. Scabior looked at her Mark with fascination and horror. "You 'ave to go, don't you?"

"Yeah," she exhaled as she nodded her head a little. He pushed a strand of her hair out of her face as her blue eyes glittered as she gazed at him. "Please come with me."

"I will, love," he breathed as the pain continued in her arm and he leaned in close again.

"Sira," Cal's voice said quickly as she entered the room, causing both her and Scabior to look at her, "we need to go." Sira took Scabior's hand in hers and stood.

"I know, Cal," Sira stated softly as Cal gave her a puzzled look.

"What are you doing?" she asked with uncertainty as Scabior and Sira walked over to her. "You know that he can't come, he's not a-."

"Cal," Sira snapped. "I know he isn't but he is coming with us." Cal didn't say anything to this, there was no arguing with it. They stepped out of the house quickly and vanished from the spot.

They all arrived on the doorstep of the Malfoy Manor. Sira's heart was racing and her palms were a little sweaty as she held Scabior's hand a little tighter. The air didn't seem to feel right; it held a sense of urgency. Her nerves flared in her chest. Cal knocked on the door and it opened instantly for them to see Narcissa, looking worse and more troubled than the last time. She looked as if she was close to tears. "Come in," she exhaled as they stepped into the house. She led them into the dining room, which was filled with people. How many more Death Eaters are there? Sira asked herself as she looked around the room. There was Bellatrix, the Dark Lord and Fenrir Greyback, who was glaring at her with hunger in his eyes, not longing, actually hunger, and many more that she didn't know. Cal, Scabior, and she were just about to sit when the Dark Lord's eyes fixed on her.

"Scabior," he hissed cruelly, "you are not a Death Eater so please leave, this is Death Eater only." Anger bloomed in her chest, causing her to stiffen in her seat. Scabior gave her a quick look and stood. He was just about to leave the room when Sira stood, glaring angrily at the Dark Lord. A snarl broke from her chest.

"I'm sorry, Master," she barked viciously as her eyes filled with her fury, "but if he leaves, I'm going with him. I don't care if I'm punished for leaving this meeting either because Scabior is as much of a Death Eater as I am. He deserves to receive the Mark and he deserves to be in this meeting." She felt everyone's attention fall upon her for no one in their right mind would dark speak to the Dark Lord in that fashion. She continued to glare at him though her eyes were burning with fury.

"Sira," someone breathed their voice full of relief. She searched for the source of the voice and found it. Scabior was looking at her with a mischievous smile on his face and he came to her, his eyes gleaming with his desire, as his mouth met hers in a wild, desperate kiss. She let out a gasp for his breath was hot in her mouth as her hands weaved themselves into his tangled hair. His kiss held his longing and his wanting as he pulled her closer to him. She could feel the gazes of everyone on her but she didn't care at all.

Cal started to blush as she looked away for she was embarrassed about what her friend and her ex-boyfriend were doing. It was like they were trying to eat off each other's faces. Narcissa and a few others looked horrified that someone would even do that in front of other people. Bellatrix looked longingly at the Dark Lord, desire burning in her eyes, but he didn't notice.

Scabior ran his hand down her side, causing her to gasp again as she forced her mouth harder onto his. It felt so good and so anger-filled. His touch held his hunger, he wanted more and so did she. Someone coughed, signaling them to stop, but they didn't. Actually, it made their kiss more vicious and passionate.

"Down, Volkov," the Dark Lord hissed, sensing that it was time to stop them. Sira pulled away from Scabior reluctantly, never wanting to stop. She sank back down in her chair and wiped off her mouth with the back of her hand. Cal gave her a look that said 'I can't believe you just did that' as Scabior put his hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks, beautiful," he whispered into her ear as his other hand moved her hair away from her neck.

"Scabior," the Dark Lord snarled, causing Scabior's attention to shift to him, "you are free to stay if you want." Everyone looked at the Dark Lord as if he was crazy but he didn't change his decision. Scabior sat down in the chair beside her, brimming with the victory. Sira flashed him a little smile as he put his arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you, my Lord," he said with gratitude in his voice and the Dark Lord gave him a small nod.

"Now, one of our own has told us that tonight is going to be the night that a secret plan is going to be completed," he hissed, "and he has asked for us to provide enough of a distraction for him to complete the mission easily." Everyone exchanged questioning looks but Sira knew what he was talking about and so did Narcissa and Bellatrix. "The person I am talking about is Draco Malfoy, the place is Hogwarts castle, and the mission is to assassinate Albus Dumbledore. Without him there as head master, I can move one of our own up to replace him and I will have control of the school.

"So," he jeered, "Draco is asking me to send some of the Death Eaters to go and start a fight to give him an opportunity to murder Dumbledore quickly. You will have to act fast, my friends, during the battle for we don't need any more Death Eaters locked up in Azkaban or killed. He is also asking that you get to Hogwarts by using a Vanishing Cabinet located in Borgin and Burkes. Are we clear?" Everyone nodded their head in agreement.

"Now, those that are going," the Dark Lord snarled darkly. "Fenrir, you are and so are Amycus, Yaxley, and Alecto." He moved to two people that Sira didn't know. "Also, Calypso, Scabior, and Sira, you are going. It shouldn't take long." Her eyes widened, she would have to go and fight. She knew some of the guards around Hogwarts; they used to be her family. How could she fight them? She didn't know but she had to do it, even if she killed them. She didn't know it now but it would be the hardest thing she would ever do.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The darkness of the night hung heavily in the air around Sira as her heart pounded her chest. Her nerves sat like a rock in her stomach, she hadn't felt this way since the day in the Department of Mysteries. Scabior walked beside her, his body radiating his confidence and eagerness. He wanted to fight for a bloodlust shone in his blue-grey eyes. Everyone seemed so eager to go, all except for her.

She knew she had to fight, but she didn't' want to. She didn't share everyone else's bloodlust. Doubt filled her mind, she didn't even think that their mission would be successful, and there were too many flaws, too many things that could go wrong. Scabior took her hand in his, causing her to gaze at him uncertainly. "Are you ready, beautiful?" he asked her in a whisper.

"No," she breathed as she dropped her eyes, "there is too much that can fail."

"Don't think 'bout what can go wrong," he whispered back sweetly, "just think 'bout everything that can go right. If you don't, we may as well give up now." She gave him a quick smile as her eyes brightened.

"Hey, Sira," Cal panted as she came up behind them, "aren't you excited?"

"No, she's doubting the mission," Scabior said softly. Cal gave him a startled look.

"Really?" Cal asked, her voice almost squeaking. "Because I'm ready to go, I'm ready to fight." Sira shook her head, she just didn't know if she could do it anymore. Each and every time she fought, she had a fire burning within her, aggression towards her opponent, but now there was none. She let out a sigh out of her chest.

"I just don't feel like fighting," she admitted and both Scabior and Cal gave her a puzzled look, like she was crazy.

"You're a Death Eater, you have to fight," Cal stated. "Once we get there, you'll be ready." I hope so, she thought to herself. They continued to walk down the street until they saw the other Death Eaters head down Knockturn Alley and soon, they arrived at Borgin and Burkes.

"Everyone," Fenrir called to them as they were about to enter the shop, "remember our mission and remember that we have to go one at a time into the Vanishing Cabinet." Sira rolled her eyes because she couldn't believe Greyback. He thought he was the best just because he was allowed to wear Death Eater robes.

Quickly, they entered the shop and headed to the cabinet. Greyback opened it to see that it was totally empty. "Who wants to go first?" he growled. Everyone exchanged glances but no one stepped forward for the longest time and then, finally, Cal did. Fenrir nodded his head as she stepped into the cabinet and gave Sira a fearful look as the door was shut. A few seconds later, Fenrir opened it again. Cal wasn't there.

"Who's next?" he called and Sira stepped forward, pulling her hand out of Scabior's. She stepped into the cabinet as she gazed at Scabior. Her heart plummeted as the cabinet went dark. The next thing she knew was that the cabinet was filled with light as she stepped out of it.

"Hello, Draco," she said quickly as she gazed at him coldly. "Long time, no see." He glared at her as he closed the cabinet door. She went to stand next to Cal, waiting for the others to arrive. Scabior was next to step out of the cabinet followed by the others.

"Everyone," Draco called after the last person arrived, "tonight, the Dark Lord's mission will be completed. This will be a major victory for us, for it will turn the tides of war in our favor." Sira leaned close to Scabior as Draco spoke.

"Grand words for someone so young," she breathed into his ear as he flashed her a smile. Draco stopped and turned to her, his grey eyes glaring at her icily.

"What did you say, Volkov?" he asked in a hiss.

"I said that those are some grand words for someone so young," she growled cruelly as a spark flickered in her eyes. She tilted her head and looked at him, waiting for a comeback.

"My father may trust you, Volkov," he spat as he stepped closer to her, "but I don't."

"So be it," she snarled bark, her fire burning in her eyes, and he turned away.

"Anyway, we will finally have control of the school after tonight," Draco growled arrogantly, "and we will be one step closer to reaching our goal. We will have control of the magical world soon and then we will have control of the entire world. It all comes down tonight. We will not fail! We cannot fail! We will fight to the death and we will win!"

"Long Live the Dark Lord!" someone called in response as Cal cheered a little. Scabior flashed Sira another smile as she crossed her arms, unimpressed with Draco's little speech.

"Come, everyone," Draco bellowed as he led them towards the exit. Once out in the hall, he spilt them up into two groups: Cal, Scabior and Sira, and then the others. He sent her group down to the grounds and the others were to stay with him in the school as he went to find Dumbledore.

Sira, Cal, and Scabior sprinted through the halls down to the entrance of the school. They had already attracted much attention from the teachers and the guards. A group of people, Order of the Phoenix members actually, had cornered and pinned them against the door. Sira looked at Scabior and Cal fearfully. Cal looked at her, they were outnumbered. They drew their wands and aimed back at their opponents.

"Scabior. Cal, go," Sira panted quickly. "Get to the grounds. I'll hold them off."

"Are you mad?" Scabior hissed as he shot her a chaotic look.

"Maybe," she growled, "just go! Go!" Cal ripped open the door and dragged Scabior out with her. Sira looked at the Order members; she knew each and every one of them. "Well, isn't this a surprise."

"Sira," someone panted, she knew the voice.

"What, Anastasia?" she hissed cruelly as her old friend stepped out of the crowd, her wand aimed at Sira's heart.

"Why are you like this? You could've done the Order so much good but instead you turned against us, your family. Why?" she asked in disbelief. Sira rolled her eyes.

"We've been over this," Sira snarled. "Nothing can change me now." She steadied her wand on her friend, seeming to be ready to attack if necessary.

"Something can change you now, Sira," Remus Lupin stated as he stood beside Anastasia followed by Tonks. "Love can change you and so can loss."

"Let us help you, Sira. We can change you," Anastasia flatly as she took a step closer to her, her brown eyes pleading Sira to see the error of her ways. She was disgusted, they knew they could do nothing to bring her back to her old self but yet they still tried, even though all hope was lost. Her blue eyes turned dead serious.

"There is nothing that can be done for me for I am lost forever," she snarled viciously to them. "Give up, there is nothing for me." Anastasia shook her head.

"You still have people that care about you, that are concerned for you," Anastasia panted as if she was close to tears. "We can help you."

"When will you stop believing that I can be changed?" Sira asked in a hiss, a cold, cruel hiss. "When will you let go of the past?"

"When will you?" Anastasia asked back with disbelief still in her voice. "You still haven't moved on from Sirius' death." Sira inhaled sharply, as if she was slapped in the face. "Sira, you need to move on. He's not coming back. He's never coming back. I know you don't want to move on but you have to, it's not helping you to keep believing that he is still here." Her brown eyes were full of her concern. "You're driving yourself insane, Sira. You're hurting yourself." Her eyes started to fill with her tears as rage swelled in Sira's chest. She hated her, always trying to change her, always trying to do what she thought was best for her. "Let go, Sira. He is dead. Sirius is dead."

A snarl broke out of Sira's chest, causing Anastasia to gasp in horror.

"Avada Kedarva!" she barked out of her fury. The flash of green light hit Anastasia, causing her eyes to grow wide with her terror. Her body hit the floor and Sira stiffened with her shock.

What did she just do? Why did she do it? Someone screamed as she sank to her knees, dropping her wand to the floor with a clatter.

She had just killed her best friend.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

The great doors behind Sira burst open as Scabior and Cal raced in to fight the Order members. Sira couldn't breathe; she didn't even notice the battle ensuing around her. All she was focused on was Anastasia's body lying on the floor in front of her. She couldn't believe what she had done. Anastasia was her best friend when she went to Hogwarts and she had killed her. Was this the person she had become? A heartless murderer driven by her emotions who acted without thinking about them? A person that could never let goes of her past even though it drove her to insanity? A person that had died on the inside? Sadly, she was that person now.

Hadn't Sirius always told her that she shouldn't forget who she was? Hadn't he always comforted her, making sure that the good side of her reigned above her dark? Hadn't he loved her for her innocence and her purity? The answer was yes. The tears started to streak down her face.

What had she done to herself? She turned from a carefree, pure, loving soul to a cold-blooded killer… a Death Eater. She acted on her emotions, her desires, and her longings. She didn't think before she did anything, she just did.

Now that she thought about it, she had hurt so many people, and many that cared about her. She hurt the Order, she ruined four lives, she caused many to suffer, and she broke a man. These were the only ones she was completely sure of, but she felt that there were many more. She caused people, even children, to fear the name Sira Volkov, a name Sirius used to love to say.

Another thought washed over her, did she cause the Malfoy's to be in the situation they were in? If she never loved Lucius, would her have ever loved her back? Would he have ever been caught and sent to Azkaban if he didn't try to stop her from running into the veil? Would Narcissa be suffering alone as her home was being controlled by the Dark Lord? Would Draco have to kill Dumbledore? She felt that if it wasn't for her that the Malfoy's would be together as a family, not separated and struggling.

She had ruined everyone's lives and it was all because she didn't let go of Sirius.

He knew something like this would happen if she didn't and it happened, it all happened. A loud sob broke out of her chest as she put her face in her hands, her body trembling with her knowing of what she had done. She had done more damage to everyone around her than she ever though she did.

Then what of Scabior? He loved her but didn't she threaten to kill herself in front of him? Didn't she cause him to constantly worry about her? All he ever did for her was help, was comfort, was support and what did she give him back? A lot of grief, a lot of concern and a lot of stress. She was sorry that she messed up the only life she didn't think is affected.

Every move she made, every breath she took caused someone a suffering. Maybe she was the problem in the world, maybe Anastasia was right. She shouldn't have left the Order in the first place, she should've stayed. But didn't she cause people harm while she was there too? Wasn't she just a nuisance to everyone? She wouldn't stop affecting people, she couldn't stop affecting people. She was worthless. She was useless.

"Sira, come on," Scabior panted as he touched her shoulder. She looked up at his face with her tears rolling down her cheeks. A fire burned in his eyes, a bloodlust, but his face showed her cheeks. Her breathes came in pants as she shook her head, her eyes glittering with her fear.

"I can't, Scabior," she wheezed as she put her face in her hands again. "I can't." A spell flung past his head and he dashed back into the fray. Cal was fighting three Order members by herself and seemed to have the upper-hand. She finally noticed that the other Death Eaters arrived for the fight. Was the deed done? Was the task complete? Then, she saw that more entered the fight. They were children.

"It's over, time to go!" someone bellowed as Sira searched for the source of the voice. It was Snape. She saw Scabior turn and race towards her. She rose to her feet, her eyes wide. He dashed for her and grabbed her hand, which caused her to turn as he dragged her forward. She sprinted with him, running blindly out of the doors and onto the grounds. Cal followed them out. They were the first to leave the school.

"Scabior," she puffed as they continued to run. Their feet pounded against the ground as their pace seemed to quicken. Her thoughts swirled in her mind, not clearing with her exertion. They were plaguing her. What could she do? What would she do? She didn't know, she couldn't think with all of her other thoughts. Her head hurt terribly.

They didn't slow until the main gates of Hogwarts were in sight but it was still a dead sprint to them. A pang of fear shot through her as she looked back to see no one was following them. They stopped at the gates, watching to see if anyone else would come. "Where do you thing they are?" Cal asked as she tried to catch her breath. She was breathless, like they all were.

"I don't know," Scabior sighed. No one was around them. Sira looked at Scabior, sweat beaded on his forehead as his eyes were still wild with his excitement. He seemed to live for the fight and for the flight. She felt sick and weak, she felt dirty.

Then, she saw someone coming, a boy with white blond hair dashing towards them. "Where are the others?" Cal called to him. He reached them in a second, breathing heavily.

"They're coming," Draco said rapidly. He seemed shaken and a question flashed in her mind. Did he actually do it? She didn't think so.

"Did you complete the task?" Cal asked him as he looked at her, his grey eyes dull and emotionless. He shook his head and anger filled Sira. She killed her best friend for nothing? She rushed up to Draco, her right hand forming into a fist. She punched him jaw as hard as she could, her eyes livid with her anger. He stumbled backwards and gave her a furious look.

"What was that for?" he asked in a snarl.

"For causing me to murder my friend!" she barked. He gave her a questioning look as the memory of what she had just done flashed in her mind. All anger drained from her as she stepped away from him. She couldn't believe she just punched Draco. She turned, with tears in her eyes, and walked to Scabior. She moved into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Tears streaked down her face as she sobbed, burying her face in his shirt.

"Cal, I'm taking Sira back," he sighed. "She needs some time alone." He put his arm around her shoulders, supporting her weak body as they walked out of the gates. When would she stop hurting people? Could she stop hurting people? She doubted it and with that thought, they vanished from the grounds.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Sira couldn't breathe when she and Scabior arrived on the doorstep of Cal's house. Her body was weak in his arms as he opened the door and coaxed her inside. She gasped as her body started to tremble with her thoughts. Anastasia's face flashed before her eyes, just before she murdered her. "It's okay, Sira," Scabior breathed as her body went slack in his arms, threatening to fall to the floor. He supported her; he would never let her fall. Tears of grief, of loss streamed down her cheeks, she couldn't believe what she had done, not only to Anastasia, but to the whole world. There was no doubting it though.

He carried her through the house to the bedroom which she stayed in. He entered the room with her still in his arms. As her tears continued to fall, he led her over to the bed and sat her down gently on the edge. He sat beside her, his eyes full of concern as he stroked her hair and another sob rattled her body. "Sira, beautiful," he whispered as he turned her head so she had to gaze at him, "will you tell me what 'appened?"

"After you and C-Cal left, Anastasia s-stepped forward and she asked me why I am like this. She believed that s-she could change me," Sira wheezed as she relived the moments before Anastasia's death. "I told her that I couldn't be c-changed, that nothing could be done f-for me. Except, she wouldn't believe it and then, she s-started to say how I needed to a-accept the past. I got so angry, Scabior, and I killed her. I murdered my best friend." She fell into his chest, clutching the front of his shirt as another sob shook her body.

She hadn't felt like she did now since she and Sirius separated to sort out their feelings. The feeling of that the tears would never stop, the feeling that she would never be the same and the feeling of guilt consumed her. Scabior pulled her close as she continued to bury her face in his shirt. All he wanted was for her to stop crying, to stop suffering. It hurt him to see her suffer but he knew how she felt. He never did tell her his entire past for he was afraid that she would be disgusted with him, but he felt that now was not the time. It was not the time to tell her that he, too, had killed his friend.

It was after his parents disowned him and kicked him out of the house to live on the streets. He and his friends darted through a dark alley with fear and exhilaration in their eyes. They had just broken into and robbed some muggle's home and now raced away from the scene of their crime. Suddenly, they came to an abrupt halt. One of his friends, Jace, smiled at him mischievously and with a glint of bloodlust in his hazel eyes. He strode over to Scabior with a swagger in his step. He placed his hand on his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. "Aren't you glad that you ditched your parents?" Jace asked in a growl.

"'ell, yeah, I am," Scabior said rapidly.

"We're glad that you finally came to the right side," Jace snarled. "Purebloods don't have to act the way they do and we're living proof of it." Scabior nodded. Jace was his best friend when he went to Hogwarts and Jace was the leader of their gang. Scabior secretly wanted to be the leader though; he wanted to have the power Jace had. Jace walked away from him a few paces and turned to face him. "Do you remember how we always wanted to duel each other?" Jace asked cockily, "but we weren't able to duel like we wanted to?"

Scabior knew what he meant as they drew their wands, they had always dreamed of dueling with Unforgivable Curses. "I remember it like it was yesterday, Jace," Scabior said loudly, his voice rich with his accent as it filled the night. Jace nodded and gave him a cruel smile.

They bowed low to each other and then aimed their wands at each other's heart. Scabior's heart beat loudly with his excitement, he wanted to make the first move but he knew that he needed to wait for the time when Jace was vulnerable. A blast of light hurled itself towards him and he blocked it easily. Their wands flashed like swords, lighting up the dark alley with random flashes. Their duel was fierce and blood-thirsty but no Unforgivable Curses were used… at least not yet.

"Crucio," Jace barked. The spell hit Scabior dead in the chest, causing him to fall back as his body convulsed with pain. He cried out, he couldn't help it. Jace cackled with laughter and broke the curse. "Can't take a little pain, Scabior?" he asked viciously. "Are you that weak?"

Wrath flared in his chest as Jace continued to laugh at him. Way to kick a man while 'e's down, Scabior told himself. He glared at Jace maliciously, he was his friend and now, he treated him like trash.

"Avada Kedarva!" Scabior barked as Jace's eyes filled with horror. He fell back to the earth, seeming to take ages to finally hit the ground. He couldn't believe he just did that, he didn't know why he just did that. "Jace!" Scabior bellowed as he stood and rushed over to the body of his fallen friend. The others backed away slowly from the scene, vanishing into the night.

Scabior sank to his knees in that dark alley, kneeling beside his friend's lifeless body. He studied it; he had just taken a life, more importantly, the life of his friend. "Jace," he breathed with shock in his eyes. "Jace, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to…" His friend had just been standing before him, alive and well. Now, he lay in that alley, dead.

Terror overwhelmed him as he stood and turned. Not knowing what he was doing or where he was going, he ran. Jace's last words rang in his head. Can't take a little pain, Scabior? Are you that weak? The words drove him on, forcing him to race through the streets. He couldn't clear his head. Memories of him and Jace at Hogwarts flashed through his mind. He couldn't take it and he vanished into the darkness that surrounded him.

"Sira," he breathed as he made his decision to tell her for it would help her, "I know 'ow you feel." She lifted her eyes, gazing directly into his face as her tears continued to fall. "I killed one of my friends too, 'cause 'e made me angry. 'e told me that I was weak and that I couldn't take any pain. I didn't mean to do it, it just 'appened."

"Oh, Scabior," she whispered.

"But it's okay now, lovely," he sighed, "'cause I accepted my mistake. It was the only thing that I could do 'bout it and that's what you're going to 'ave to do."

"What if I can't" she asked as she sighed with her remorse. "What If I won't accept it like I won't accept the rest of my past?" He ran his fingers through her hair as he gazed at her devotedly.

"I'll 'elp you, beautiful, like I always 'ave," he said gently. "I'll never let you fall; I'll never let you suffer. I'll 'elp you become the girl you want to be."

"What if I don't know who I want to be?" she asked and another sob broke out of her chest. "I'm a completely different person than I thought I was."

"I'll 'elp you find who you are," he whispered truthfully, "and who you want to be. You're the only on that I want to spend the rest of my life with, Sira," he brushed some of her hair out of her face as her eyes filled with passion, "I want to spend forever with you 'cause you make me forget, you make me feel, and you heal me. You heal the wounds of my past, beautiful. I love you and I'll forever love you. I long for you and I need you." He gazed into her blue eyes as sweet desire filled him. "Sira, will you marry me?"

"Oh, Scabior," she sighed as her eyes glittered with joy but the tears still rolled down her beautiful face. She touched his face with her fingertips. Her answer was in her eyes and she smiled a sweet but sad smile at him. "Yes," she panted as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "yes." Her heart wanted to burst with her emotions as they held each other close. They would never left each other go, they couldn't let go. He needed her and she needed him.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"Cal," Sira breathed as she entered the kitchen of Cal's house with Scabior, "we have some good news for you." Cal turned to face them from preparing some dish of food and looked at them with her ice-blue eyes glittering with her curiosity. Her eyes darted from Sira to Scabior.

"What is it?" Cal asked with interest and fascination in her voice. She had a confused look enter her eyes and she glared at Scabior. Her just shook his head and leaned close to Sira.

"Do you think we should tell 'er?" he asked into her ear. A smile flashed across her face as she nodded her head. He moved back to where he was.

"Sira, what is it?" Cal asked, becoming impatient. She smiled at her.

"We're getting married, Cal," Sira said happily. Cal grinned at her and went over to her. She pulled her friend into a hug as she let out a joyous, little laugh.

"I'm so happy for you, Sira," Cal breathed quickly as she released her from the hug. "You'll finally start having a normal life again like you once had."

"Yeah," she whispered back as she gazed at Scabior. She felt that she was starting her slow process of healing and it was all thanks to him. He had given her life back to her; he had helped her start to regain everything she had lost. He was becoming her Sirius, and she was glad that he was. In her crazy gamed of love and loss, she was finally winning again and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Scabior," Cal said as she looked at him, "don't hurt her because if you do, you'll have to deal with me." Sira knew that she was dead serious for her eyes grew cold.

"I won't, Cal," Scabior said proudly, "I would never 'urt 'er."

"Good," Cal said, almost spatting the word. "Oh and I needed to tell you two that I'm having a little party tonight for the successful mission that we completed the other night. All of the Death Eater are invited and so are you, Scabior, and it's going to be a blast."

"'ave you 'eard anything 'bout 'ow the magical world is taking Dumbledore's death, Cal?" Scabior asked, not wanting to think about what Cal would do at the party.

"Yes, it's starting to break down, giving us another reason to celebrate," Cal stated gleefully. "Soon, the Dark Lord will have control of Hogwarts and the Ministry and the rest of the Death Eaters will be released from Azkaban." Cal let out a cruel laugh. "He will be more powerful than ever and we will be almost unstoppable soon." Sira looked at Scabior with a confused look, she didn't want any more fighting, she just wanted the war to end but she knew that there would be much more to come.

"At least that means that the war will be over soon," Sira breathed. Scabior and Cal shot her a baffled look, as if they thought she was crazy.

"It's going to be awhile before the war is over," Cal said flatly. "I know that you want it over now and that you don't want to fight any more but we have to keep fighting." Sira's eyes dropped to the floor, those were not the words she wanted to hear.

"A girl can hope and a girl can dream, can't she?" she asked as her gazed returned to them. Scabior put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

"Of course, lovely," he breathed as he caressed her face. She gave him a little smile as she saw the look in his eyes, the look that said everything was going to be okay. She set her head on his chest and sighed.

Of, course, like any other Death Eater party Sira had been to, someone was drunk and this time, it was Cal. Right now, she was talking and laughing loudly with Draco about 'his' completing of the mission and his accomplishments at Hogwarts. Sira swore that Draco thought that Cal was flirting with him, which Sira knew that Cal wasn't. She rolled her eyes at Draco's failing attempts to swoon Cal for Cal wasn't even acknowledging his attempts. Sira shook her head as Scabior sat down beside her, laughing a little.

"What are ya laughin' at, beautiful?" he asked as he put his arms around her.

"Cal and Draco talking to each other," she breathed as she gazed into his blue-grey eyes. "It's pretty hilarious." Scabior looked over at them and then returned his attention to her.

"I bet it is," he whispered. "Does 'e really think that 'e 'as a chance with an engaged woman?" she gave him a playful smile.

"I think he does," she stated as Bellatrix stumbled into the room filled with people chatting with each other.

"Long Live the Dark Lord!" she shrieked as she raised her glass into the air.

"Long Live the Dark Lord!" everyone shouted back which brought a smile to her face. She crossed the room to Sira and Scabior and looked at them.

"I heard that you two are getting married," she said in a hiss. "Good for you. I wish you a long and happy life together." Sira gave her a fake smile of appreciation.

"Thank you, Bellatrix," she said politely. She gave her a little nod and strode off, swaying a little with each step.

"Fun party," Scabior stated with the sarcasm rich in his voice. She giggled and touched his face as she gazed into his face longingly. She was glad that he was here for her and that he would always be there for her. He wasn't just becoming her Sirius, he was her Sirius. He was the closest thing she had to Sirius now. He leaned close and her lips met his in a sentimental, little kiss. Her heart fluttered with the promise of a long life with him. When she was with him, her past didn't bother her and she felt as if she was slowly becoming herself again, the self that she lost that day in the Department of Mysteries.

As his lips parted from hers, she thought of Sirius. He should be proud of her for she was finally starting to let go. She was finally not making everyone's lives miserable. She felt that she had grown so much over the last few days with her realization for her mistake.

Only, she still felt horrible about what she did to everyone, especially Anastasia, but at least Anastasia had affected her the way that she had always tried to do. She made Sira realize her mistakes and made her think before she acted. She owed Anastasia for that for now she wanted to change her ways, to become a new person.

She wanted to be happy and positive, not always changing from one emotion to the next. She also wanted to do as much as she could to make sure that this war ended smoothly and without as many deaths as possible. She wanted to be the woman that Scabior would enjoy each and every day with, the woman that he wanted to hold close and never let go, the woman that he would come to when he was hurting to help him heal. She wanted to please him for he had helped her so much. It was the least she could do in return.

"Sira," Scabior breathed as her thoughts broke off. She smiled at him kindly, never wanting him to let her go.

"Yes, Scabior," she whispered as she moved even closer to his chest and her eyes showed her needing and her desire.

"I just wanted to say that you're so beautiful with your bright, blue eyes that are always filled with so much love and your perfect, lustrous, dark-brown curls of 'air, and your flawless face," he whispered passionately as his eyes filled with his certainty. "You're so beautiful when you are joyful as you are now. I love you so much for all of those things and so much more. You make this life worth living even though life is difficult. I'm glad I 'ave you, Sira, and I'm glad I can make your life joyous too." She smiled at him as his lips brushed against hers.

They met in a kiss as her heart fluttered again. She loved him, each and every thing about him, everything from his blue-grey eyes to his swaggering walk. A longing flared in her chest as her hand weaved into his hair and her eyes closed. She wanted to cry to heavens, she wanted the world to hear her call. She wanted to live each day with these words in her heart forever.

The words were long live love, long live life, and long live Scabior.


End file.
